Twitter, shimmer, glitter, quiver grains of golden sun...Bringing to light each crackling twig in the hearth which beholds all gangling drops of dew with sparks wistful, fistful.
Simpers silent solitude devoid of solicitude at rising falling dwindling dying sanity. Such profanity. A step. Cold breath. Those memories. All come alive. To jig and jive. You dig and dive. From emptiness. To emptiness. And you're thirstiest when profundities have quenched all quietude. All quietude. And on reigns emptiness.
0 Comments
|
AuthorAlina N. Kidwai Archives
October 2015
Look
All
|