I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Amnesiacs, all: forgetting about A plague that left no part of this world whole As if the thing itself we really doubt
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
The other humans Who drive you completely mad Are also mortal
Ares, god of war Stay your bloody sword and grant Tired mortals peace
Misunderstanding Womb of a thousand evils Withers as you read
Jesters who reveal Ugly truths with their jesting Are soon rushed offstage
Some argue that meaning comes from context Web means one thing to a tech billionaire Another to an arachnophobe, vexed;
It remains fresh, clear Dawn made of magpie gossip You whispered, "Come on."
It is obvious: I have failed again I sought in vain to choose these words for you Each one a soft, cool kiss for your sad brain
Perhaps we are all The results of very small Tedious group work
It is possible Passionately to believe In great illusions
Is intimacy Just a joke that only two Minds can really get?
Once you have begun The end rushes to meet you Make it seem fitting
