5 am

There's a gut churning in this dark room that isn't mine
Though I am alone the swing rocks in the playground of my mind
Kaleidoscope lips cascade back in rows
Mechanical cogs not missing a turn
I would put a shell to my ear
The sea didn't echoe back to me
Just started whispering incoherently

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

that incoherent ghost within our minds that constantly haunts us with its whispers of the past and the muse of now.