The grains shift, glitter, cascade forth The vipers rain through the roof The ticking melts into solitude The forked tongue hisses still How did this luminescent skin wither? Around ankles the relentless slither Luck runs out,  only fools linger Undulating upward seeking the heart Death is near,  my chances meagre


Rediscovering Poetry: T.S. Eliot.

There is so much to be said about good poetry, if only I was as adept with words as those who write it, I would gladly pen them down. As I wind down a busy Saturday, with nary a thought in my head nor the will to do much else, tonight I read Eliot. And... Continue Reading →

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