discord
in our dulled words
we want more than we give
not the cliff edge the abyss we
call home
Saturday, 1 May 2021
407 we small things
waiting when
now is the living
shadow thing
afterwards
our footprints in sand
wait for sea
become small
enough to hide away
be embers
406. heartbeats
our bird died
chilled by frosty nights
in nest still
sleep pulls me
hushes cleverness
ends it all
sky I see
a dark earth I fly
escaping
405 the naked emperor in our midst
words fallen
people now plastic
distancing
hollow me
everything taken
to protect
overwhelmed
spoken to as vile
coffin talk
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