Careless blunders,
sporadically songs of thunder,
frolicking vessels shapely wonder;
Have those pawns came truly disguised as another?
Keep speculation smothered,
wrong assumptions make for weary nights as like no other;
Stir they will,
the night tapping upon floor,
spin whirling chills,
closing behind them – thy door;
Run if one shall,
hooks burn deep down chest walls.
E;YaF
YOU ARE READING
Between an Aphrodisiac & a Loathing Place.
PoetryA collection of poetry that has been written from me (and my constant battle with wrecking insanity). Some will make sense; some will leave you with a big ole' question mark; but, like myself, not everything can be precise and make definite sense...
