Anton was studying Literature at the University of Essex when he decided to try his hand out at writing fiction - which he does to this day.
Knock our heads together, make me see the inside of a Russian doll.
Grab the restless feather, from the wing of a peroxide crow.
I’ll find the pieces of a broken puzzle, and hammer nails of a crooked cross,
To show the queen of humble starlets the seas beneath an albatross.
An amphitheater of an absent crowd,
Shall be the forum of her endless light.
For all the empty seats inside her court of freedom
Reserve a hollow front of lone demise.
I write, she flies
Amidst the circling vultures of delight,
And holds onto a brittle tether
That motions sickness with acerbic lullabies.
I’ll keep on pulling levers to the slots of devils
Until my angel wings begin to pry,
And feed the flames with kindling of a wooden parent,
Until our families have an axe to grind.
Go on and run to get your feelings buried,
By undertakers of your birth right.
And I shall wait one stop away from heaven,
To suck on marrow of a promised paradise.
© 2022 Anton Sanatov