deepundergroundpoetry.com

Four Days

 

I have four days to find
fire's flavor but i'm still
spitting mire.

I want to brave this abyss,
unclip my harness and fall...
no, flow.

I picture a warm glow, the golden
ambrosia that could quell
my longing.

I peer in, fitfully predict cold slams,
so remain huddled at the rim
of irrational wishes.







Written by Atakti
Published
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