I felt the apocalypse,
For I am the one under the blanket of disgrace
Vapours of sullen emotions clamouring the disgust chaos,
I knitted their faces, from core to core
till I knew the point blank.
The whole world, dreaming the dead leaves
an intoxication of swollen wisdom,
For time establishes time.
Reality bites my skin, leaving a yellow mark
a mark of insolent skins,
a mark of insolent smiles.
Dipping in the sublime extensions of rose petals,
churns my thoughts like a needle.
Poking and creating.
The aftermath shall be a mystery.