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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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HYPNOTIC
Mournful leaves of rotten wood Hit the wrinkled ground’s ancient Wounds, Enchanted by the conquering struggle Of a vague wandering silhouette. Looming inside a sphere that has drowned it Fears, Sounds of hasty shuffling feet Increase, fade and revive, Haunting through the frightening endlessness of the night. Deprived of the sight of a new bleached dawn, Two hypnotic eyes that have lost their narcotic Nourishment, Are yearning for the draught of the mightiest oceans To come and dwell upon their weary blinks. Copyrighted © Sorana Salomeia, Iasi, Romania ~SORANA ~
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