#drapes
Plucking nails like petrified petals,
each one tipped in faded gloss.
And they fall silently,
this life is now morbidity.
Wood has splintered within this carcass
of holding, she plucks hair and manifests
a brush,dipping it in the empty socket
of reflection.
Visual metaphors adorn the now
sullen silk interior.
Now hanging like drapes in a
still wind of putrefaction.
Death is a void less experience,
where one must entertain oneself,
for eternity is a long time to captivate myself
in a six by two tomb of introspection.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 5:39 AM UTC
4am
Thoughts of you are dangling off the edge of my cerebrum creating anarchic drapes
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 9:41 AM UTC
Life is beyond
the beautiful drapes
of caprices.
It is basically
a friendly thorn
which doesn't plummet
deep inside your soul
to wound you but,
to give you strength
so that you combat
the other non-friendly thorns.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
****** like my insides,
My stomach hurt,
Hanging down where I reside,
Only for what its worth,
Or maybe cause I'm standing right next to them,
And the demons fight the masses,
12:00 when they came out to play,
But dreamt of Requiem,
Can't be too careful with these things,
Finding a different purpose for these things,
And even when you think you can control these things,
I don't think you could get enough of these things,
These things,
That make you go,
Insane,
And walk into a party full of cougars,
Or go back in time,
Only to stop them from shooting matin Luther.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC