An opera they cling to my fingers
and the underneath of my hand
holds like an octopus
babies stickies claws I hope progress
beyond me and remain fond
into knuckles we must recognise
sings in a note of a clasp
relapse
and draw on an ink spurted easel
black squid, insipid the denial
I crave to curtail
the mollusk clinging to an alien rock
asking who the father and mother was?
This Opera denies me a levity of the sky beyond
the rock pool
the stool of a mind I hated
felt degenerated beyond sea
weed me like a pond
respond i plead you
Please I beg you
with tears in my eyes
encapsulated like a mind submarine
the depth of dark is cold and true
it always lingers
like the original fingers
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment