It's poisonous claws scratching up from the inside of my chest, they open a path of lurid squalor festering the internal wounds with rotting meat that spreads from within to the skin that crawls and dies, cell by cell into the empty stale air surrounding our conversation
The words float from one breath to another without ever really landing to a precise spot of connection They just mimic meanings and thoughtfulness when they are void of any feelings
There is no spark of life no life itself denied to us by the putrid scent we ignore the existence of No knowledge of pain or reality just a dull sense of immortality as we still like the dust suspended motion our lips without sense nor sense of self Corroding second by second by second 'til we become dust ourselves
"Natura Morta" is the artistic genre of painting still life It resembles us so much at times
She came to me with the unborn, The devil’s look in the baby’s eye. Small feet & hands all well too torn, I to grab my own son dead & shy. What I thought would be a blessing, Would only begin life misery. Long ago, I so obsessing, Waiting for my heir of mystery. Feeling his beating little heart, Beat! Beating! No lungs grasping for air. No more a mother, but a ****, Dead eyes of her evil long lost care. So, I killed her - life for a life - Who knew - the prayer of a knife…
Do you love the grit of my teeth, True caressing sweet nature, Slowly engulfing you… Love‘s venom taking over us, Never to let you go free, Nor leave a simple clue… Symphonies of dreams distorted, No one to crave you but thee, Savings for catacombs… Who to find you of buried love, Your skin melting of ***** wealth, Reeking of ****** pomes… Shake alive your casket of limbs… Of ground the crying violins…
Sleepless in change, As time passes by. Tell me my love, Where are you to hide? You left me here, A bard of the night. Longing for dreams, Awoken by fright. Still in silence, I don’t wait for you. What’s passed is gone, An entity through. Am I alive - Haunted we will know.