an idiot blog for an idiot world


with 2 comments


Oh, this woe
Like a madness comes,
Alights, arrives and roosts,
Like an inky black raven,
Perched upon Pallus, always
Echoing that endless refrain.

What is to be said, what is to be made of
This substance, like clay,
That oozes from my breast,
Rheumy red and just as viscous,
Its ebb and flow
My very heartbeat.

Written by Pranaya

August 24, 2010 at 12:30 PM

Posted in attempts.

Tagged with , , ,

2 Responses

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  1. why am i thinking of Poe?


    August 24, 2010 at 1:12 PM

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