Waves carry me floating to the edge,
After they carved in me songs of themselves,
Listen to them as to them I succumb,
So you'd see the swamps pour dry to numb,
Spread to revenge and march towards mourn.
Reek of death below the heavy waters,
Within sunken caskets in the wavering depths,
With bobbing tombstones floating along the waves,
Dream of hillstones when the breath is helpless,
Poor little thoughts of glass, may you rest,
Within the inky rook of distress,
Ah, the divinity of hoping to be blessed.
Mortuary shades traveling lashes of air,
They make me squrim in silence and despair,
Such broken borders of nameless flair,
Scavenged between almost broken ribs,
Don't breathe, it will flood with humming needs,
With cascades of dry, falling leaves.
Ardent censer in my flowless lungs,
They exhale air of morgue and drugs,
Hills and valleys of copulated, morbid plague,
Do I dare ask why they care?
Why, when, and where will I burn,
If I take another shot of your mourn?
If I tremble in my fear of turns,
Shall you take a swing to make me run?
Another leaf, another shrug to make me numb,
Sink my heart to make my famine hum.
As they spring into my veins,
Rise and flourish ever so deadly within the maze,
They spread and rot with perfume of delight,
Bring me empty to weakness and uncertainty alive,
Oh, how the colorful sheets of reality disperse in sight.
YOU ARE READING
Perturbance
Poetry"The chaos is scattered and split, but the order it has is not for us to see." Here is my 2nd poetry book, yet another journey delving into the depths of the mind to uncover one self. The chapters will diverse in theme, yet they will be having dark...
