PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Moon was mixing the colors. 
The black hole does not exist. 
I was hearing about the quantum, 
something was amiss. 

Purple grapes had turned black. 

I am trying to understand 
the damages. A discreet thought hole 
permits the escape of energy. 

Imagination was at risk. 
Can you hold on to life, 
without a shock? 

Somewhere you go back 
to a concentration camp to collect the ashes.