Fleeting flashes, crashes, of a desperate end
entwined into the fibers of my mind, the essence
of my blood, of my mere
being.
Tiles blinding, the grin of a mindless maniac
upon the greedy grasp of the grim death,
yanked into the oblivion
of eternity.
Melted crystals, flowing, bubbling, calling my
name, so attractive, a sultry dessert, in a way
a sweet ending to a melancholy
before.
Take a chance, dip a foot, gamble with fate
a sea of possibilities it is not, in the end
of the day, it is a pocket within it
a knife.
Fabric as satin to a human's touch, the feel of basking in
the brightness and hotness of the scorcher, but I ask
how, then, could the silky smooth, upon the call,
unveil a thing so sharp, morbidly used?
The graveness and grim of a place quite dimly lit
the pallor of the pretty porcelain stark against
the ripples of transparent silk afloat;
inviting.
The satiny tub awaits so patient and kind
as the river's waves morbidly sharp sway
me into a merry wager, hand the despair
for a shiny-wrapped contraire, attractive.
Perhaps shall I dare for a taste, the thrill
but before, slimy tendrils curl around me
limbs encircled in a ruse of freedom.
How could I be a fool, enough to believe then
allow myself to fall into a bush of these
luscious roses, rusted, singed petals and
daggers for thorns underneath the surface
of a sublime promise and statuesque?
And thus I drown, and drown, and drown,
into a stormy ocean full of prickly briers
and as time crosses into the realm of
nothingness, vacuum, the truth sinks in;
the emptiness spans endlessly, and I will
forever float, eternally exist, nowhere else, only in the screaming white,
alone.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 7:31 AM UTC
Fleeting flashes, crashes, of a desperate end
entwined into the fibers of my mind, the essence
of my blood, of my mere
being.
Tiles blinding, the grin of a mindless maniac
upon the greedy grasp of the grim death,
yanked into the oblivion
of eternity.
Melted crystals, flowing, bubbling, calling my
name, so attractive, a sultry dessert, in a way
a sweet ending to a melancholy
before.
Take a chance, dip a foot, gamble with fate
a sea of possibilities it is not, in the end
of the day, it is a pocket within it
a knife.
Fabric as satin to a human's touch, the feel of basking in
the brightness and hotness of the scorcher, but I ask
how, then, could the silky smooth, upon the call,
unveil a thing so sharp, morbidly used?
The graveness and grim of a place quite dimly lit
the pallor of the pretty porcelain stark against
the ripples of transparent silk afloat;
inviting.
The satiny tub awaits so patient and kind
as the river's waves morbidly sharp sway
me into a merry wager, hand the despair
for a shiny-wrapped contraire, attractive.
Perhaps shall I dare for a taste, the thrill
but before, slimy tendrils curl around me
limbs encircled in a ruse of freedom.
How could I be a fool, enough to believe then
allow myself to fall into a bush of these
luscious roses, rusted, singed petals and
daggers for thorns underneath the surface
of a sublime promise and statuesque?
And thus I drown, and drown, and drown,
into a stormy ocean full of prickly briers
and as time crosses into the realm of
nothingness, vacuum, the truth sinks in;
the emptiness spans endlessly, and I will
forever float, eternally exist, nowhere else, only in the screaming white,
alone.
