wading through fields drowned in blood
i listen to the sound of my pounding heart
dissolve into the carrion-song
of the ravens
while you shimmer in the glow
of my absence sipping dandelion wine
from divinity itself.
do the gods love you for it
as much as i?
**** them.
it doesn't matter.
their might will be mud
and they will choose oracles
from flowers reaching for indifferent sky
in a future far beyond the reach of
their miasmic mythologies
while you smile at me behind the same glass
of wine.
again, **** them.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 6:32 PM UTC
wading through fields drowned in blood
i listen to the sound of my pounding heart
dissolve into the carrion-song
of the ravens
while you shimmer in the glow
of my absence sipping dandelion wine
from divinity itself.
do the gods love you for it
as much as i?
**** them.
it doesn't matter.
their might will be mud
and they will choose oracles
from flowers reaching for indifferent sky
in a future far beyond the reach of
their miasmic mythologies
while you smile at me behind the same glass
of wine.
again, **** them.
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