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Hands full of ichor
Wrap around my neck
And my eyes
And my mouth
And my nose
And my skin drenched
In gold and in silver tones.

The fissures scatter around my burned skin.

I ponder and I stare into the nothingness
The chasm that I find.
Staring back at me and all my shortcomings.
She begs
She screams
She cries
She wishes for everything
And nothing all at once.

The metal sinks into my fragile fingers.

If I break all of me and tear my limbs apart
Will I escape from my own regrets?
Finally forgiving.
My faults
My shadows
My blood
My ash covered fingers.
Itching at all my gaps and lack in judgement.

But when will I find that you have let go of my throat?
Of my eyes
My ears
My hands
My heart.

When will my ichor stop flowing?
When will my fissures be patched?
When you are here.
I am unbound.

And I know everything will cure
in its own time.
I will find that my fissures will seal
and the ichor will stop running through my veins.

One day I will feel human again.

Someday I will be me.
in an e mood
Greyisntwell Oct 2022
The Funeral Portrait

This portrait stares back
I feel the guilt burn behind those eyes
Once full of life
Now is the avatar of strife

Sunken cheeks
What reeks of failure and shame
Just another pawn in Life's cruel game

In this portrait
The birds of prey circle
The haunting call of the grave
She beckons, do I give in?

In this portrait
I do not recognize
Pins, needles poking and prodding
It's starting to crumble to ashes.

The moonlight shines through shattered windows.
The room is glowing with brilliant rays

This portrait now burning
Is this what it's like to feel finally alive?
It's loosely inspired by the Portrait of Dorian Grey
Rama Krsna May 2022
with zen calm
he awaits,
the next chess move of whimsical time

li’l does ‘time’ know,
he’s way beyond it.
legacy etched in stone,
this warrior of awareness
marches to his impending destination
steeped in silence.

as his life flashes
in that rear view mirror,
his beatific smile says it all.

i’ve attained nirvana!

© 2022
for teachers who have paved the path to liberation with silence
Persephone Jan 2022
You are truly breathtakingly beautiful.
And I condemn god every time I see you for not gifting me with an artistic soul.   
For you deserve nothing less then to be immortalized in art
Nat Jan 2022
I as much as the next but no more than all before
From the ground the ground again
Pattern break pattern break pattern
Break pattern break pattern break
Again the ground from the ground
All before no more than the next but as much as I
Persephone Dec 2021
Their names still burn your throat with the same fire that lit their pyres 3000 years ago.
And yet you still have the audacity to call them dead?
Unpolished Ink Jul 2021
True immortality would be
to outshine the stars and see them fall in flame
and watch the glory of the heavens burn and blaze a final time in melted majesty
to live forever is to witness death and see him take all other living things
save you, brave firebird with gilded wings
where do you stand when all but hope and dust is gone
and you are forced to carry on
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