The gulf of tomorrow's time


In the breach left by stripling aggregate

A maw, grinning ghastly, yawns

Upturned the lick that, dodged, retreats

With an audible smack fed

Dribbled delusions of safe harbour


Any port in tomorrow’s storm

Of spermicide droplets

For there is form in the fog

Appreciable destiny in the collide

A whispering lament

Of apathy, sweet apathy

And children unborn


*You are a triangle, torn through the mouth of a square, something fantastic beyond mortal comprehension. You have no equal, for you do not exist anywhere but my heart. There you remain forever, undeveloped, immaculate.