
weaving words like wicker crotchety job
every single one
grabbing them all
with a neat thread worth
millions
or at least a gold bar
when I finally resume to my own seat
comfortable enough
to try to break through
obstacles attacking from
the outside world
and from my head
used to this kind
of arrangements
from which it’s not
easy to get out
alone
but every time I try it works
like a tank ready to fight
any sort of
my own space
yet if I don’t let go
its pricks like roses leave numerous scars
where there is no cure or see
this veil in an incomprehensible guise that pierces through it
without remorse
even if it’s the only new thing I’ve got
*
December 2022
***
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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Comments (1)
Fanrastic!!!