Monday, 11 September 2017

Tongues Fall Quiet




You do not make an eye contact with a thing,
A corpse.
Even though dead men don’t tell tales.

By a mad miracle,
Poverty assaults your ego,
And your heart and guts hung hooked.

Night comes black,
And breath deserts you,
Lifeless, a corpse, just a thing!

Tongues fall quiet,
When dead men finally meet.
But anyway, dead men don’t tell tales, they are all just the same.

Modern Winds, Old Dust

Photo Credit: Alex|Pintrest “It is time for fresh and boiling blood;” Mumbled the big bellied man, looking through the side ...