Pray
Solemn afternoons,
Where the west sun bathes
In bluish-yellow sea
Smoke whistles in the air
Where birds tiptoe
In electrical cords
And leaves, sway
Slowly, lights are dimmed
A balance between day and night
Where moist bodies lay
'Til everything dances in harmony
I miss days like this
Where my mind wanders
More than my body
And summer
Afternoons in awry
My feeble heart aches
In lonesome sights
I get to grieve myself
My heaven and hell
Are all gone
As my angels are silenced
And my devils sleep
It passes like a dream
A harrowing nightmare
Where corpses stay
And after all the noise,
I'll stay put
And grasp my hands
As I pray,
Everything will be okay.
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The Passionate Corpse
PoetryCorpses are gross, dirty and foul-smelling. At times, they're scary to look at. But curiousity enthralls upon something unpleasant. Amidst the ugliness, it satisfies the dark part of our soul-not meant to be human. Something about it is unnatural...
