I feel the black breath settle on my neck
A black sun communicates with me
There is an imaginative power at its source
It is like the purple stain on a drawn wine cork
My vision is occupied by it, it twinkles and crackles
I see a scent hang in the air, an anesthetising intoxicant
Numbing, cold, like watching gargoyles in the street
I know the winds speech it has an oneiric vocabulary
That drifts among the scarlet stained scent
Swirling through my crystallized thought
Causing a pristine vacillation in my mind
That echoes like a vacant cobalt night
Disturbing the fundamental enigma
That is the centre of my being
I close my eyes
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 4:10 PM UTC
I feel the black breath settle on my neck
A black sun communicates with me
There is an imaginative power at its source
It is like the purple stain on a drawn wine cork
My vision is occupied by it, it twinkles and crackles
I see a scent hang in the air, an anesthetising intoxicant
Numbing, cold, like watching gargoyles in the street
I know the winds speech it has an oneiric vocabulary
That drifts among the scarlet stained scent
Swirling through my crystallized thought
Causing a pristine vacillation in my mind
That echoes like a vacant cobalt night
Disturbing the fundamental enigma
That is the centre of my being
I close my eyes
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