filled up with enmity coiling up inside
The chest billows up
Thy want to heave it out
Then destined to tranquility

The claws scratch the flesh
Death gnaws on the remnants of longevity
Unless visions have a chest
To burst out into effervescence

Spontaneous sigh is kicked out of your breath
The clavicles sharpen, the eyes ogle ahead
The nothingness dilates
The flicker has no entrance for itself to adumbrate

For utopia has its own gore
To marvel over inside,
The plasters of bliss
Have guffawed over the gullible dusk

The gloom has left with a whisper
A muttering not to be heard
The relief has sewed on flesh
With the clouds coming out of thy outburst

The relief rebirths the serenity
Has been meandered, halted
For thou shed leaves
Making agony to clouds of no return

Utopic defiance,
the idiosyncratic anectodes
Stains of externalized innundation
For the literal existance of hope.

For I have restrained from the light above
Thou, in the ogling reflection, stood, awaiting
Amorphous reiteration of the rue singes the flesh
For I ,ere sewing the sin on my flesh, was inebriated from passion and from those I regret.

The eons of dust arched the back of the wind,
Integrating through, never did they collide, only swiveling.
For I missed the light flickering,
Beyond the hues of tears clear on my skin..

Only in this meandering path do I bedeck my complexion,
With sins ,adjoining skin over skin
I have never admired
The way they nestle over sin.

Thee; The patchy and rough branches,
Sew beyond the bones under,
Inexorably calling to terminate
This pain over and under

For i have sinned, please tune me out
Discerned from the peaks of higher mountains; Apart.
Though the stars shine upon solely a dust,
For a jiff, merely descends the armour, down

Caved in, clemency seems away in clouds,
Billowing up towards the luminary.
Did I crave it or did I not?
Does flesh ache a lot.

I stood in front of a mirror,
Abhoring the adversarial and metaphoric matter
Ethereality strikes over my flesh,
When I commemorate the sins I have flecked