Chime of Psithuarism

Looking at me, you smiled; The December wind rustled The quietitude of the twelve am. The psithuarism of my destruction Chimed in the mess we had created. -*- Sangbad 12/19/2017

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Exhausted and Spent

the air smelled nicotine the environ rhythmed with fan the room, lorn one, curtained dimmed. I lay looking at the ceiling the fan with flying curtain creating a shade a mixture of colors of wall, street and-- overcast May sky. I'm here, but, I'm really here... the moment, the silence that I lay in is … Continue reading Exhausted and Spent