To another shirking duty do I die
Swarmed by specious crowding thoughts that sped
We wed in black, so dreaded black to tie
The altars bones of white that lined our bed
And followed constellations in our heads.
My addled weight of whetstone you've become
With tons of stones in wooden bladed sling
Past summers clouded face hung heaven's sun
On bark you tried to dry the deadest things
And on my strumming soul threadbare you'd sing.
The nightmares ran past colored vats of dye
As shifting shapes geometrized the rune
What dyed the pigment in your furthest eye
Was joined with the paler canvas tones
And cracked the varnished face our pebbled moon.
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 3:50 PM UTC
To another shirking duty do I die
Swarmed by specious crowding thoughts that sped
We wed in black, so dreaded black to tie
The altars bones of white that lined our bed
And followed constellations in our heads.
My addled weight of whetstone you've become
With tons of stones in wooden bladed sling
Past summers clouded face hung heaven's sun
On bark you tried to dry the deadest things
And on my strumming soul threadbare you'd sing.
The nightmares ran past colored vats of dye
As shifting shapes geometrized the rune
What dyed the pigment in your furthest eye
Was joined with the paler canvas tones
And cracked the varnished face our pebbled moon.
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