this is an attempt at a spoken word piece, wrote...
The shattering
continued today...
the syllables
of your name drown me...
Misfortunes will become fine artwork
and time a slab to display...
War was an awakening
a rouse from my slumber...
The light did not flicker today,
the room felt empty...
cruelest fate – we dance our waltz,
alternating the lead and the other...
all eyes were on
that sorceress wearing...
You held a basket of yellow lemons
fresh and bright...
I shall die when I clench or grit
in all these geometrical shapes...
I do not live
And if I did...
the days patinas into night more readily
this time around; offering four hours of...