Tag: poem

by design the subconscious automata

art is the one true apparatus they fear

strangers to their own skin drained faces

the morning mist clouds the light of eyes

bare hands reach for the mist at twilight

arrogance is deeming everything else a threat except for our stale existence

if you have not noticed we humans are the crisis

lone wolf syndrome a grass blade out of place

how subtle the wildflower’s rage at conformity

autumn we tend to the tender field of feelings