The Philosophical Faculty Journal

Category: Venya Patel

  • Poem

    —

    by

    Splijtstof
    in ,

    It melts losing its form,Turning into a sculpture.I can hear it no more,For it sways within a furry forest,Buried in wax,A muffled sound escapes. Stretch marks on a prowl,A low growl peeks through veins,Eyes lined with red see her. The lines break outside roots,Slithering down foamy wax,Down my scales and stripes. I listen,A lick, a…