Poetry Time 37: Artifacial Heaven

The heart that drinks the sinks filling a glass of stagnation.
With tongues so young joining the brass of sensation.
The fruits that roots themselves to tears,
those shall sow our cheers and thread on dead minds donation.
The side that hides behind heaven rings,
blessed are that obsessed of earthly wings.
Our lucid souls of damnation.


NaaN (Now, always and Never)