Strangely vaporous under the rain
We feel flying icons before the virgin
Ahhh! The vision has come
All heavy under the grave
I enjoy dream-like dreams beside the fog
Word! The heat is coming
So scary above the fog
We breathe red sirens beyond the dreamscape
Dig it! The bitch has gone
wavering intangible
not understanding
a ticking clock
With what hopes
the god
seek the road back
when the world was new
YOU ARE READING
Incoherent Poetry
PoetryPoetry that serves to clash tonally and ideally with the objective that a new tone, genre, or coherency (some semblance of sense at all) can be made from throwing different ideas together in a bizarre gathering of words.
