my eyelashes clogged with tears
how many seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years
I’ve been trying to figure this all out
leaving my earthly grounds and now floating with the spirits, blowout
no chance of resurrection, my odds are stake out in the wrong gears
***
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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
“I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.” Sylvia Plath
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