Untitled I (Only the night matters,...)

Only the night matters, its granaries filled with gold, the awakening of the voice. Under the regime of the sun time bends the heart, waiting frays the mind. That's where I survive, among fragments of screams and visions of blue; my dream-horse lost in the desert.

Mindglow

Writing poetry since 2002. Lover of art, music, design and books.

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