#1

Not posted for so long, but I have been working on a collection of poetry.

#1

Eyes concealed,
The tiny cracks in mud,
Would resemble clearly,
The drout of my eyes.

Balanced colossal posture,
Purified squarks of speech.
A songbird would leap,
My happiness would not follow.

Water boiling.
No heat from steam.
Pouring.
Now weeping.

Scratching,
Seething,
Energy soaring.
My bubonic head collapses and falls.
Grind my teeth and quit.