Gray and Black

Poems focused on meaninglessness

Something now is pending, and time is coming soon.
The only words that matter are spoken by a whore.
And the past is like a platform out in space where there’s darkness every direction I face.
We got some muscles that can make a smile. And some other muscles that think about a hard mile.
I gave it a name. It’s yellow and blue.
I’m fixating on this late autumn sky to remember the flight of some birds.
The price is some pain.
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