Tag: Poetry

The Quiet, The Insane, and The Guillotine.

After a mere minute of listening to their garrulous talk, their vainglory had no place for the wretchedly involved, These wretches cared not for the words, but only for the melodies from the caterwauls that they had caused, by a guillotine of sorts, like…

Z’s for Mead

Staggering with every step I produce, This ground has been liquidated to poor use. It appears that I have stumbled upon an unfamiliar terrain, One with stagnant growth, where clarity is constrained. With every stride and motion I intend to commit, There exists a…