deepundergroundpoetry.com

vernacular

� �
The waves are part of the everloving sea � � � � � �
The moon is part of the night � � � � � �
and if we don't belong anywhere � � � � � �
maybe we don't belong at all � � � � � �
� �
� � � � �
� � � � �
Sometime in the night, � � � � �
The vision will swallow you whole � � � � � �
and spit you through the black hole's core � � � � � �
into some other bubble universe � � � � � �
that draws like a moth to the light... � � � � �
It is the final vision, the final throwout, � � � � �
before madness finally descends in crescent waves� � � � � �
� � � � � � �
� � � � � � �