05/09/2024

the soul of the python
piled away in nothings
closeted and foul
gruesome and petrifying in its days
blue sun, electrifying in its daze

all of a sudden;
erroneously joyous,
i shall bring about my mind to a river,
and i shall slightly hope
to befall the lake it sails onwards to

just as swiftly;
i shall lose my face to my hands
and play about with my temples
the way fishes play about in a pond
fond, got into a good rhythm
of learning from mistakes,
until a burning mistake
led up in distasteful bond