Poetry

Wearing raw beef,
speaking Buddha,
it was real time in dystopia.
 
I was wondering,
how to cheat life.
Crypts were empty.
 
Think, keep quite,
I would say, watching
the river go by.
 
The feral look, will
teach you suffer. There
was no ending.
 
Half-bird, half-mount―
You carry the burden
of undoing nemesis.