It’s a page I’ve got, I’ve got to cross-check because it’ll disappear, Like the time has passed and that, which will, To the point it ever was, till the point it ever will. Blue, green and brown, yes, they’re…
And the night shall fall short to spell, Another rain on the parched blood soaked in airy blue. To let hopes sulk in deep on concrete black road, Waiting to roll over with words invited to crack skulls open. …
Not all of a sudden, neither a planned effort it was and it had to be. It became either one when I came and sat down to write this idea of a thought. This, as minutely is been observed, has…
It’s a page I’ve got, I’ve got to cross-check because it’ll disappear, Like the time has passed and that, which will, To the point it ever was, till the point it ever will. Blue, green and brown, yes, they’re…