Kral Majales

Nine Orphan Gears

Flea Market Basilica

Cig'regret

Split Smile

Moerae found lying amongst her things;
All worn out like a day,
Spent on words and how they fit,
Like a glove in longform plays.
A sort of pain that's like a sown mouth;
Dry like a word,
Held up despite feet in step,
At the sleeves rolled up for sleep,
Like a glove in longform plays.

Dressed like a saint wrung out,
With my folded over arms.
How a smile smooths stiff old hands.
The burden of carrying myself,
When the road forks to higher ground;
They all moved on, over me.

noirtemps

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