#triadic
All we want to hear about is love and
Madness, wounds left in the mind
Where what's taken for granted
Was ripped out and scattered, just ash.
Maybe just madness, then. Addicts
Left shaking their cupped hands
Trembling out aching, quaking desire
Where stillness arrives with a kiss,
Where confession pours crimson,
A ****** of claret. Spilled into a glass,
Sloshed across a tongue, breathing
Bitter, barren, dry - washed down
With another glass, until the flavor stains
Teeth and tongue and lips. We are
What we drink: water and blood.
We are what we love: madness, confession.
Does a ****** see in their subjects
The viscid revel of their own scars?
Oct 26, 2018
Oct 26, 2018 at 9:54 AM UTC
Come, voice, back from the original black
Ness, Foot, Yankee Jim
I need a sign from a quasi mind not my own
Fiefallu dendress mazaiyato
Call.
Answer.
All
my answers
lead to nothing
absolute.
Call. Answer me.
I'll
answer you.
Not a compulsion
Never intended, just
Fiefallu dendress true.
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 5:34 PM UTC