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Jun 2015
-



Lead dripping from
empty sockets,
a clock hissed in serpent hours,
it's venom oozing from the crystal walls

it's 4 a.m. you insomnia lunatic.

I'm too busy admiring,
how the man in the moon slithered through
these blinds on my soul-swept window.

That night I was a canvas,
as the moonlight stripped my arm raw of shale,
and tinted my skin with

silvertongue.

And when he was finished,
tiger stripes tattooed my thinning vessel.


-
When I can't sleep I leave myself
the stupidest of poetry.

© Copywrite
Skaidrum
Written by
Skaidrum  The Basalisk's Chambers
(The Basalisk's Chambers)   
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