A dark poem of laughs, windows, and thrown, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
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He laughs like windows thrown open in winter. Spikes bead with paint, each drop a tiny siren. Goggles black out the sky he carries in his head. His teeth shine like a cordon round a scene, milk-bright, hungry for perimeter. Something red walks down his collar, unhurried. He does not notice. He is busy machining joy.
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A dark poem of sorrow, passes, and storm, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
A dark poem of bent, question, and scared, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
A dark poem of wore, wound, and jewelry, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
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