It has been time . . .

Art, Blank Verse, free verse, poetry

That of thereof,

much to my demise. . .

that these days have been.

A yearning that no one will ever replace,

a place where i found,

my noose upon these neck of a turtle-that is none but a ninja-

weilding a fork to taste a sweet bittermelon, that has been dunk in a sauce of life.

Ahh contemplate me an ocean,

where i can at least talk to mother Tiamat,

and listen of all her deluded lies of the world,

and I wont be a Marduk about it.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s