Under its dark hood,. Falls out of the sky each night. To suck at my scars. With lights it did not create. But like a silent pond. On an august afternoon,. Instead of sun, i prefer ruin. Not with the freckled beams. And acts as it should,. As the sun wills it.

I am a person who likes to make things. That I make creatively and see what happens. We were always told we could be anything, but I think we can be everything. Follow me via Email! Digital Art Made Real.

Multimedia journal of poetry and other arts. Asymp; Leave a comment. Multimedia poetry site welcoming experimental and political writing. This face you got,. This here phizzog you carry around,. You never picked it out for yourself,. What you can do with it. Somebody slipped it to you and it was like.