October 1998
1 post
1 tag
Anachronismatic
Strewn apart without the ability to grapple; Lost in the annoying murmurs of my mind, Like faint chanted hymns from an old chapel— Background noise turned, switched, intertwined, Deeper down through fire-brimmed charcoal Sift wind bend turn, now lost without control.
Rhythm without spine, no balance or pace, Drumbeats and heartbeats flung into space.