What do I Ask of My Heart?

in this inane quagmire
a forest secluded
away from the metallic mountains
giving mazes of unwarranted solitude
in this milky sea foaming at the lips
revolutions within the waves
and swallowing salt and sand
what gives me the right to ask?
what use is living
if I keep asking if I’m living?


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s