Crawling is an art,
Once legs leave the
Mass to graze the spikes
Then foot steps become
My paintings,
And the trail of ants
Etch my sights
Spiders tell me my name,
Lady birds kiss me good bye,
The sleep is long,
And the gamble
Wouldn’t last all night
Grave
New
Ducklings
Follow my way,
And I let them suckle
The sweetness of lies
Thousand laughs
For a night my love;
As I cater your dreams,
You fill my
Incoherent plight.
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“When thirst didn’t have a name but a vacant hunger of The Forbidden Eyes”
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