this is not an AI generated poem.

cryptic writings

esoteric arrays

the lord of doors

generated and gone in an instant

we are obsolete

are we obsolete?

ender

VT

18 years old

More by ender

  • nameless III

    the more of me i see, the less of me i want to be. i feel empty and dreaded and dead inside;

    i’m a horn atop a pig’s head;

    i still remember dogwood, sitting under my porch;

  • nameless I

    death and malice behold thee, what pains of being are inflicted upon thee, those creatures in the water and the hills continue to watch thee, the wind in thine ears whistle around thee, seven eyes on a goat’s head stare towards thee, the