We are arid about the land
All lustful before the grave
We ensnare lustful hands against the flowers
Whoa! The heat has gone
Totally dazzling beyond the fire
You conjure glowing meaning near the sea
Crazy! The bastard will come again
We are arid about the land
We swallow black lights about the vapors
Awake! The life will come
translucent unsafe
lost in broad daylight
no way out
With what regrets
a stranger
take comfort
where he knew no-one
YOU ARE READING
If it not be Poetry!
Poetry"Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from th...
