I rarely hear the Trumpets now
The singing bellows of quelling sound
Which tame the Beast, I fear inside
His hypnotic trance, is a Demon's cry
I cannot see the Painter's wrath
Brushstrokes raging down forbidden path
Long forgotten, but forever known
His sinister smile breaks day when shown
I know not the Cinder's smell
The Kindling Madness of an ancient spell
Ash inhaled of perfect ruin,
His incantation of evil is brewing
I dare not taste the Wicked's Cuisine
Dark nectars twist the tongue of Fiends
Bellies full of Nightmare's tears
His fruition comes through pain and jeers
I reach to touch the Devil's Hand
Three of a kind and a master plan
To call the bluff or submit and fold
His reign begins, free will already sold
Sometimes when I
briefly touch you
I want to sink into
the warmness of your skin
all toasty from that internal heater
you call a body an it's wonderful
how so much heat can come
from such a delicate frame
or maybe you are my delicacy
to be deliciously eaten
during times of crisis
I only have to think of
the slight curve
of your pink smile
to find warmth.
So finally I have found you ,
just a like a dawn to it’s dew,
I don’t know where do you live or
what you do ,
but I have hopes that together in life we’ll glue .
You have came just when the movie has started ,
so you never would miss a scene or gleans ,
you’ll know me all someday and
if it seem worthy , maybe just stay .
I don’t ask for much
but just a soul’s touch ,
I promise I won’t try to clutch
rather I would I be glad I came across you in this lively search .
These letters that no one else will ever read
I hope you will with creed ,
be free and welcome to this unusual breed,
Together we are planting a seed .
train wreak you diffused specks of hazel
that nude lipsticks were rigid romances
shriveling moans of moon light
slurring sequences with bold touches
like poetry smearing against slender ankles
"let your hands linger by my thighs"
like a melody he moves
the rhythm of his mood
grey turns to silver
shone on his head,
and a smile
so soft across his face
brings my mind
and longing to his space.
the dance of a rag in hand
smooth like jazz
caressing every surface.
nothing is neglected
by long legato strokes
along a smooth, pale canvas
cleared for his next composition
to do it all again.
I am jealous of his kitchen.
When I think about you,
it doesn't give me butterflies like it used to.
Instead I feel like I swallowed a dozen knives.
Looking through old photographs of us used to bring a smile to my face,
Now I get nauseous.
I once thought I would grow old with you
But the thought of you now makes me cringe.
I gave you my trust
And you tore me apart, bit by bit.
My eyes avoid all the reminisce and fingerprints you left in my home and on my skin.
I have tried to purge you out of my head
because the thought of you makes me disgusted
But its difficult.
You spread yourself thinly through all of my favorite things.
The only thing you never touched was my poetry.