Poem: The Metaphysics of an Opus By Enotor Prosper
it’s pride of tearing through the soft of clouds; such cruel! How it pry opens a dahlia, an hibiscus, reaching into their core, the better part of them
it’s pride of tearing through the soft of clouds; such cruel! How it pry opens a dahlia, an hibiscus, reaching into their core, the better part of them
I hide in the thighs of love . In the eye of scriptures. I hide in sleeps that do not knock me out into the open –
waiting for the morn, to come with yet another slice of rejection at love, at career