"My Lord," the tall man says,
"I'll eat that
and more,
carefully as if it had thorns-
I want to confirm your worst fears about me.
It's premature burial,
without hope-
I pray to its shadow.
Nothing's changed except
it's about the blood-
and maybe not.
I was careful of her,
I let her love me;
her softness and midnight sighs-
don't ask me why.
I've no idea what I'm doing.
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.
Sufferer of Aloneness;
I know you won't understand this,
but that's the sum of it."
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:43 AM UTC
"My Lord," the tall man says,
"I'll eat that
and more,
carefully as if it had thorns-
I want to confirm your worst fears about me.
It's premature burial,
without hope-
I pray to its shadow.
Nothing's changed except
it's about the blood-
and maybe not.
I was careful of her,
I let her love me;
her softness and midnight sighs-
don't ask me why.
I've no idea what I'm doing.
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.
Sufferer of Aloneness;
I know you won't understand this,
but that's the sum of it."
Actually one of my favorite poems. A small piece taken from 20 different poems and then having them all smushed together.
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