I Write Short Stories and Poems
2019
Innsomniate
When one looks at that curvature and one knows it is just the overture.
They would have one drooling and their blood pooling.
The hills and valleys; curvaceous, one's appetite: voracious.
One can taste this, one should not waste this.
It is so tasteless one not need be hasty, so meaningless but it shall be tasty.
Have one waking every hour, to climb this ever growing tower.
Step by step, at the doorstep you sidestep, any wrong footstep, one missteps.
From this point onward there would be no going back.
If you ransack this castle, it would be quite a setback.
I suggest you turn tail and hit the sack, it'd be wise not to attack.
A matter of alluring, it can be so reassuring.
I can assure you it leaves one a husk, there is no dawn, only dusk.
Innsomniate
When one looks at that curvature and one knows it is just the overture.
They would have one drooling and their blood pooling.
The hills and valleys; curvaceous, one's appetite: voracious.
One can taste this, one should not waste this.
It is so tasteless one not need be hasty, so meaningless but it shall be tasty.
Have one waking every hour, to climb this ever growing tower.
Step by step, at the doorstep you sidestep, any wrong footstep, one missteps.
From this point onward there would be no going back.
If you ransack this castle, it would be quite a setback.
I suggest you turn tail and hit the sack, it'd be wise not to attack.
A matter of alluring, it can be so reassuring.
I can assure you it leaves one a husk, there is no dawn, only dusk.
