No Title I notice me, the mirror The door, going up stairs And the clock reminds me It […]
poet
Battle poet mode, sudden. Overtakes me. Unafraid and aggressive. Focusing on my character, my attitude and its architecture. […]
and what work he has to do, what I have planned the next day and the remaining hours […]
My song, played then scrapped. Something I’m not accustomed to. An industry.
Key additive, my spree’s padded id. Psychological outlet when my Brow frets. Speak in quatrain, whether Loss, gain. […]