sepia gold, with a tinge of violence,
I lurked around, beneath the crust,
ate cicadas and locusts; believe
me they were a delight, handful of
easy proteins and a cashless treat.
I crawled underground to the trains,
their light piercing my pupil but as we strike
head to head, I am awaken.
This year, my locks hanging, to the height of
knees, with a tinge of desire and escape,
I squirreled away, into an empire,
wide and superstitious; palaces in the
air like flying carpets, butterflies the
lone citizens.
I reached the ears of the winged driver, to change
directions perhaps, but he sprung me out
like a sponge, I am awaken.
3 comments:
Very intriguing and complex - I especially liked the hair colour tinged with violence. Original work.
this is unusual - but the more I read it the more I like it
Nothing like word craft that catches your attention.
Thank you for sharing.
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