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Drought
Folder:
Dark Poetry dredging the headwaters of his tumultuous speak
his pain; tasting schizotypal sea foam
from the ocean of his rapid tongue ;
I vacuum-sealed my own dichotomy
twice to assure there was no spillage
as outside of me, he wept words like blood
and laughed words like gold
inside of me, he fit no fixed mold;
it is not his fault
his paranoid rotary motor
dams the mouth of his river
where is the funnel
of arcane kindness?
I need to refill him
his eyes are in drought.
