Poetry of the Anonymous

XXXVI - The Seventh Sin of Death

Standing weak trembling on the legs shaking gloomy in the soft sand dissipating amongst moon light wander and dreams of solitude –

A memory cast away torn by the rags of the weary souls wretched in the night chained to the doom of a fate not yet known to them but those who contrive their sordid demise –

Morbid laying on the cold stone floor of existence cast like shadows in the night dreaming of the statues of old withered away by the freezing winds of change and lack love –

Growing now in fear of fears fatal torment with the escape of soul language direct in motion and movement dreading death's dread and seductive delusion –

Yet seeping through temporal time and space the prefrontal lobotomy of creation looms lonely in the isolation of islands slithering to the sounds of simplicity and silence –

Oh cigarette end in the dew of baths solemn waters shallow in a tree feeling hollow the delicate prance and prithee holy to the hole of hallowed nightmares calamity –

Last yet final with contrast billowing in a vacuum of cactus price heads searching for truth and meaning in a lost realm of the surreal and of the holy abyss of night time wanderings daring the seventh to be and to see and to the captured self and the souls of me.