Customize Consent Preferences

We use cookies to help you navigate efficiently and perform certain functions. You will find detailed information about all cookies under each consent category below.

The cookies that are categorized as "Necessary" are stored on your browser as they are essential for enabling the basic functionalities of the site. ... 

Always Active

Necessary cookies are required to enable the basic features of this site, such as providing secure log-in or adjusting your consent preferences. These cookies do not store any personally identifiable data.

No cookies to display.

Functional cookies help perform certain functionalities like sharing the content of the website on social media platforms, collecting feedback, and other third-party features.

No cookies to display.

Analytical cookies are used to understand how visitors interact with the website. These cookies help provide information on metrics such as the number of visitors, bounce rate, traffic source, etc.

No cookies to display.

Performance cookies are used to understand and analyze the key performance indexes of the website which helps in delivering a better user experience for the visitors.

No cookies to display.

Advertisement cookies are used to provide visitors with customized advertisements based on the pages you visited previously and to analyze the effectiveness of the ad campaigns.

No cookies to display.

In My Head? | Jim Bellamy - Dive into the Depths of Contemporary Voices

In My Head? | Jim Bellamy

And so the light falls
Like a cracker cracked in half. Even
Beneath the pen, the breathing hogs
Each moon of madness made. I
Have broken down the walls; acquiesced
Into the lottery of shambled figures.
Even I can’t taste the night.

Leaves rustle in my head.
Across my bed, nudity glitters.
Upon my shoulder, I say my thoughts
Uncensored by any dream and
Cross into oblivion. Why

Should emptiness ache like this?!

More at https://jimbellamy.simplesite.com.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Best Poetry Online