A late pie act burnt his face,
And ate pieces. Attractive urn kiss surface.
Band mated piecemeal. Reactive turnip is laced.
Contraband matter mealworms regurgitated nipple vis bootlace.
Contrast tattered wormwood agitated pineapple vista tollbooths.
The clock struck twelve on Sunday’s tail.
Hypnos taunts me from a loud corner.
So I take up my sneakers and hit the road.
Drown out the gabber with a midnight stroll.
And find myself lost in the deep of woods.
Where two hoots sound behind foggy veils.
Good or bad company I welcome.
I long for the sea in a bygone time,
but arid sands now cover my lands.
Who’d thought that spirits don’t die,
waiting for bells to sound last knells.
Yet hope remains among liminal currents,
two strangers dream of beautiful expanses.
So I coil my arms around wishes and desire,
nudge them together and watch with eager.
I saw to capture the sky.
Effortless was light on my eyes.
Till brush met canvas and paint smattered.
Refusal spoke winds, clouds stuttered.
So I took my easel and colors aside.
Closed my eyes and tried to hide.
For night would fall and heavens slumber.
Snuck back out, clandestine plunder.
And by morning’s break, the masterpiece complete.
Gasped the sky, thought I had cheat.
but very difficult.
Entry to this week’s WWP!
Delivered on the cusp of night
The child of Nyx saw twilight.
On winter’s eve he first walked.
With sister fates he talked.
Of past lives and last regrets,
Of lost dreams, untimely deaths.
Right the wrongs, voices decreed.
Becometh the figure of destiny.
Wrath descends upon the meek and distant
Stars weep as order tears asunder
For standstill and stagnation bred
Stasis found expansion; chaos found purchase
Out of a corner the skies quaked.