Fools doom souls in pointless toils waist deep in sucking, sinking
Soils

Oily curses fling splatter falses, causes, moaning expander mosses
Losses, toss fishmen dying in the rotating stunner disc
Suns, of sons riding tides eons high
I can only sigh, I don’t even ask why
I know, I have seen these things though darkly and far
Like heart breaks of distant stars
They call, please
I fall
No, all just all
Say nothing but looking so pale
Faces in clear, spaces
Creations so tall
Neverland mall
Soul playing see saws
Glory tainted
Enthralled


 

Published by Tom Lopes