The soft moss swimming;
It is the dying spirit.
Desiring, I hide.
Pink shore, serene breeze.
The flat, upright sparkle shines.
Lost moon, velvet spirit.
Walk, swim. With blunt leaves
Wither, decline. With sharp flames
Write, fade: fluttering.
Purple, tender, falling,
Your eyes sits. A mermaid arises,
Declining, shining, I fall
deep within and go far away…
-kyoko cole 2013
-kyoko cole 2013
you’re my friend… but
i’m starting to fall for you…
hard.
and i hate it
with a machete
Escape is impossible.
Fear has a new name
. . . but here I go anyway.
Poetry and fiction not intended for the masses — Sam M. Phillips
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