The little green Goblin
Shrouded in rust red
Creeping in my garden
Reviving what is dead.
It sparks my tongue
Pulls it tightly out
My fingers are numb
After tugging it about.
Blood hot, it rushes,
Lungs heaving hard
The sound of vocals
Incoherent, yet sharp.
Breath hard, let go
Confidence in my ears
Drip hot from the soul
Penetrate wet fears.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 12:30 AM UTC
The little green Goblin
Shrouded in rust red
Creeping in my garden
Reviving what is dead.
It sparks my tongue
Pulls it tightly out
My fingers are numb
After tugging it about.
Blood hot, it rushes,
Lungs heaving hard
The sound of vocals
Incoherent, yet sharp.
Breath hard, let go
Confidence in my ears
Drip hot from the soul
Penetrate wet fears.
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