One of the fakes no. 1 (BrokenQuill)

When I became the Broken Quill, I was at a low.
I felt the earth make corners and fold into me
this was all I could think of to be
In my dreams there was love, and there was blood
There was a beginning, then there was a flood

In the Beginning

I met this human, who was an embodiment of the confidence I wished to have
but like all things it fell apart, some ink spilled

Someone didn’t understand
Had no idea what it meant to me
And the connections grew weak like radio waves through lead walls
I didn’t break down,

I gazed at the picture of a man holding a guitar while smoking a cigarette
Next to a painting of surreal bliss
Eternity began to lose its hold of me

The Flood

No one can understand what clicked in my head while she whistled
That thing is destroyed now
and like babel destroyed by the powers that be
The tears i could have shed collected and diluted the ink, but never spilled
and my hands shook as i wrote a letter to myself, seven letters


Nature should remain
no skinny love
gasping for air
touching fire
flames, fire from beyond
hotter than hell, as glorious as heaven
we hug,
i ignite
and die
She lies surrounded by ashes and sighs
closing her eyes to leave her body in the realm of men
transcending beyond to a place that was
All is Full of Love,
easy to say,
if you know what is love…

No more let Life divide what Death can join together


For this purpose I become a quill. Composing a message to You, and anyone who believes in Hope. A Fantasy based on Reality. With an affinity for: Egalitarianism, Arts, Science, Theism and Cigarette Daydreams

One day it will all make sense,
About how a Broken Quill could possess Poetic Vanity.
I guess for now you’re the judge, to this
Enigma personality.


%d bloggers like this: