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The Lost Gospel of Judas
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A patent
with no 3-D ascent.
Kaballah
washed
its exsanguine hands
thereby
holding me
a three-course dinner
out of the mouthshot.
How about
a grilled oblomovism
some have called divine?
They all
steepened my blood
but didn’t
phreatically
staunch me.
The other day
Faraday
prophesized
the holiness
far away
whither the eons
will migrate free
on the electrolytic havens.
Down there
my cathodic load
will charge again.
Otherwise
in the limelight
the guides
will have caved
heliocentrically in.
I’ll always
fall behind
while
night letting fall
is still young.
Your
hindermost backlighting,
Judas.
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- Autor
- Veronica Văleanu
- Tip
- Poezie
- Cuvinte
- 93
- Citire
- 1 min
- Versuri
- 41
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