Can you taste the change? The world is in a state of metamorphosis and its building so fast I can taste blood in my mouth. It's like being hit, watching hate rise to conquer the love I have fought so hard to find. And it's built from the bricks of fear forged too long ago to remember the quarry it was hewn from, but there it is. I taste the blood and it keeps me up at night. These fears are so alien and inhuman, I'm not sure I can come to an accord with them... you see I live on a knife's edge myself, trying so hard to cut the fat with occam's razor that I have often been left bloodied. And with my hands left red from holding people together, it's hard for me to see a sunset on the horizon as "Good News". It's hard to sleep... covered in the blood of your friends, knowing this unnatural beast hunts you.
YOU ARE READING
Floating
PoetryI've collected a lot of works I have made for me and thrown them into a mess of empathic poetry I have done for others.
