Through a fraction of a fractal

Poetry for the meaningless, madness and simply being human.

Latest from the blog.

Warm lies.

The world blurs into shimmering blobs of light, they bubble around me, and one by one they go— pop pop— bursting into the cold, dark night the warmth recedes My toes and fingers are cold I am cold so cold

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Blue Nectar

It’s being shredded apart, torn through the guts, and fed to the hungry, hungry souls. No— they need not concern themselves of what they strip, uproot, and pollute for these skies, these fields will be long after the passing of these hurried…

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The Verse of Being.

There were four children who wove the wicker of fire that colors every blade of grass, every eye that is. One covered the sky, in her disappearance she sparked secrets that swirled in her silent cauldron And the other, took…

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