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A Web in Which To Writhe
By Brandon
What a fucking cliche I've become.
A head unwound and undone.
This decision cast without precision,
how these sheets wander without the weight of two, throughout the night.
The light of memories, illuminate a world outside.
What will become of this web, of a bed, once the prey lands and leaves
a stain of time wasted?
What will become of my head, when the walls surrounding, it has decorated?
Content.
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Copyright 2016 Brandon
Published on Monday, June 6, 2016.
Filed under: "Personal" and
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