poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
The flaming skin,In its beatings,In the rebellion of the flesh,Of that which covers the bones to live,Hoists itself upon the skeleton,Can take hits from both the physical,and underestimates how the psyche would morph,Would blow the status of self into oblivion, The rebellion is in protest,It stands in prostration of every atom of sand,In all that […]