Incoherent sense of improvement.

Sweet incense of all of my garbage thnking.

Enamored the love of my writing,

have sweet joys of a pencil,

. . from and to a pen guided by my own sheer raw non-sense of fruitful mind.

In which babbling, gibberish and yes shit predictive setting of devices ;

permeated all of my works.
I would visit those times and see to it,

and preserve my naive mind,

chaotic ❤ heart.

Yes my love that was broken and shattered across 

time and memory.

I am to have that which and not bother to improve.

Only a reminder that I am not human.

I am a loving monster and a minion of Elpis.

 “I am the way, wanna follow. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride. Nonetheless It is  good one. Come with.”

Looks over to me,

 “Did I ever tell you; youremind me of some one I used to know had a good soul. Cheer up bruh. Potential is one thing, it’s how you apply and live with it.”



®Artsydhude 2019


Published by 0hmzae

A place of whimsical concepts of wasted rhyme and time. welcome to insanities of life thru lense of tensed rhyme and metre

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