Angry voids
Flashing colors
I disturb their peace
Flaming reds
And dreadful blacks
In a deadly dance
Of caprice
It's a dank place
Of dead odours
That leaches your soul-
its prey
Here comes
Another trophy
To add to its pile
Of empty grey
They got frisky rivers
To stop
In mid stride
The wind
Forgot to breathe
The stench of
Decaying collar bones
Permeates
The tender green
Of spring leaves
In the quicksand
Of soggy broken dreams
They try
To snare my feet
It's a prison
But I'm not going to drown
In the whirlpool
Of despair's cracked conceit
Let it rain dry splatters
Across my face
Let me drench
In cinders' flood
But I will break the chains
Of desolate ghosts
I'll pay
For my precious freedom
In blood.
© Manic Sylph 2016
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Drops In My Ocean
PoetryThe rapturous drops of my heart fall as poetry into the ocean of my infinite soul. I gather my ocean into each drop, to quench the thirst of questing spirits that wander into my world....
