SpotsOfTime

By SpotsOfTime

Flaky door

Cold wind from East still
Open doors are reminders
Draughts of discomfort.

A discomforting
And unconscious sense of chill
A blasted Beyond.

A landscape sucked dry
Not profound, nor prosaic
Just dessication.

A chill corridor
From one world to another
Warm fire to cold fire.

Long journey to pee
So, shut the door as you go
It is cold out there.

Music

Comments
Sign in or get an account to comment.