I take it you’re not
Accustomed to the changing
Tides of the real world.
catering for the reader
I take it you’re not
Accustomed to the changing
Tides of the real world.
Shining hot suns and
Bare trees score a barren world.
Loneliness is key.
They didn’t notice
I swallowed the world today.
They will tomorrow.
A trace of bitterness
In whose cold arms, the lovers
Forget to go home.
Come share it with me
A small, content loneliness,
For ever after
I walk this road filled
With a feverish spirit
Picking fruit alone.
I am nothing but
A small by-product of life
Made of flesh and stars.
But a crimson sky
Awaits us both and then I
Must bid you farewell.