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Tweeting thrushes twittering Above our heads, A certain thickness about the air Which fills my lungs with ***** matter. The heavens opening, scarring my scaled skin. You talking. Tulips Fresh from a plot of Lazily potted plants, The stench garrotting me as I walk past, And just as I do, you appear, Talking. I'm at best when I'm resting. Stop pressing me I need this serenity, This blank papyrus and Sea sodded swimwear. My only memento of you. Stop talking. You and I, You and I, You and I, They said. Why must they lie and ignore Your tentative gaze? My harboured farcical thoughts Encroaching my mind, Slowly metastasising through the hollow mould Which is my body. The noose lies still on the white-wash table. We are together again. Our  names imprinted on a boulder of soft, cold granite, And beneath the dead tulips And the heavy mud, We stop talking.
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
Our Eternal Slumber
Tweeting thrushes twittering Above our heads, A certain thickness about the air Which fills my lungs with ***** matter. The heavens opening, scarring my scaled skin. You talking. Tulips Fresh from a plot of Lazily potted plants, The stench garrotting me as I walk past, And just as I do, you appear, Talking. I'm at best when I'm resting. Stop pressing me I need this serenity, This blank papyrus and Sea sodded swimwear. My only memento of you. Stop talking. You and I, You and I, You and I, They said. Why must they lie and ignore Your tentative gaze? My harboured farcical thoughts Encroaching my mind, Slowly metastasising through the hollow mould Which is my body. The noose lies still on the white-wash table. We are together again. Our  names imprinted on a boulder of soft, cold granite, And beneath the dead tulips And the heavy mud, We stop talking.
Michael-Benjamin-Walker
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Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 1:48 PM UTC
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