Untitled Poem 2

Your heavy hanging neck needs a rest
Devoid of dialog's end
An acrid peak

I think planets live in your cheekbones
Cutting empty space
And standing on the swivel chair of life

A winter is hurling them
Along with pieces of your skull
Devoid of dialog's end
From an acrid peak

Finally, as I step out
Into the bitter cold of it
I am reminded of the first time
The last times
The end times
The lost time
The promise of all
In good time
And the faults along the way



Credits
Writer(s): Nolan Kiser
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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