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ella-gwenPoems
I think I must be dead and my body moulders, rests imperfectly in a carved wooden tomb. Secreted beneath the malted mud, a restless corpse twitches, mind set on deceiving; images of alien fingertips skimming supple skin. Truly, I have never been more content, as my pieces decay and dismember and chest rises with bloated gas breathing such sure imitation against bleached white weaving whale bones as the machinations, these movements of worms whisper, vibrating your words within each unseeing ear, surely, yes, no heart beats now to hear them. You love me, say my worthy companions, and oh do I love you too, most magnificent apparition, sweet spectacular spectre, conception of minds greatest trick. I must slumber eternal. I must lie beneath shaded trees where the birdsong and shafted sunlight and sweet taste of dewed grass lends life to decimated, deceased thought of what was once concious, forcing disbelieving perception, fabricating a phantom, forging the incredible wonder of you. I think I must be dead, for I think I drew you up inside my head.
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
I think, therefore.
I think I must be dead and my body moulders, rests imperfectly in a carved wooden tomb. Secreted beneath the malted mud, a restless corpse twitches, mind set on deceiving; images of alien fingertips skimming supple skin. Truly, I have never been more content, as my pieces decay and dismember and chest rises with bloated gas breathing such sure imitation against bleached white weaving whale bones as the machinations, these movements of worms whisper, vibrating your words within each unseeing ear, surely, yes, no heart beats now to hear them. You love me, say my worthy companions, and oh do I love you too, most magnificent apparition, sweet spectacular spectre, conception of minds greatest trick. I must slumber eternal. I must lie beneath shaded trees where the birdsong and shafted sunlight and sweet taste of dewed grass lends life to decimated, deceased thought of what was once concious, forcing disbelieving perception, fabricating a phantom, forging the incredible wonder of you. I think I must be dead, for I think I drew you up inside my head.
#love#heartbreak#perception#disbelief
ella-gwen
Written by
ella-gwen
F/English
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 11:11 AM UTC
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