Well into the night, swing on stars, in the midst of my madness. Find only the paths that divide further in the woods where my demons dwell. Jesus hung on the cross, while I hang the noose. I take my shovel dig my grave so deep not even the devil can reach me. At last, well into the night,I swing on a nightmare, unraveling shadows that have been twisting through my limbs. Through heart ache and dwelling thoughts of paranoia I am consumed in my madness with an appetite. In the woods walking on jagged rocks, have nothing but memories that are fragmenting and fading out of existence, to only remind that I will too, Ah though...the sun rises...reminds me..to live not to die; for living to die isn't living at all.
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The Atrium
PoesíaAs the river of life flows right through, collecting at the delta towards the Atrium of my soul
