"denser" poems
Why do you do this?
Your Army of Nothings
Who lay in the sun
and are all but sweet
who swelter and sweat
in that fresh cut grass
mowed by a man
you can't hope to know.
And you,
you there, with the grin
Who's side are you on anyway?
What made you the prince
of the Army of Nothings;
The leader, the first in command.
You spout and you spit
that ******** and bare
your teeth at me like you're the bomb
dot com
You're such a disgrace.
parading around
with your head up your ***
"So what's new?"
Oh, shut up,
You can't even fill out your pants.
Why should I care for you,
why should I feel?
How will I ever come home?
Where welcoming words
and magical treasure,
and stories that never come true
but are good.
Where futures of light once reigned so supreme
I swore they would never run dry.
I thought you'd missed out,
you know, then and there,
of the life that we talked of in dreams.
No flowers and chocolates,
no diamond rings,
just love.
Made of stuff so much deeper
and denser
and finer
and lovely, and warm, and alive...
But it's over, and done.
and I can't have it back.
So I go on avoiding
the Army of Nothings
as they come marching in
marching in
one two, at the ready
I feel deep in my bones
that breaking and tearing
Help me, archangel!
Save me! You promised!
You said you would always be there
in that carved-out big apple
our home, once upon
when we laughed and were happy and good.
But goodness runs out.
You made that as clear
as a crystal that needs to be smashed.
And I did that, remember?
I left it all broken and you were so proud
So proud I had chosen
the right over wrong.
yet you overlook
all the splinters of glass
all there
all here
all lurking in me.
I don't want to cry
or beg or to fight
But I loved you in ways
that she found unacceptable?
So silly, so stupid,
so big that it keeps you away
*Not that I care very much
For your army of nothings
or things that remind me
of memories gone with the wind*
But I do.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 10:54 PM UTC
not the milk, you see, is too sweet,
thick, which will rhyme if i write,
for me.
thick like the wool that filled
breaches in the wall, saved the lives.
save some with shelter, needing shelter,
while others lean to watch the birds fly,
talk of the bell tower, and all the implications.
the man parked his car, tidily went to poundland,
bought cards.
sbm.
*notes verb
verb: condense; 3rd person present: condenses; past tense: condensed; past participle: condensed; gerund or present participle: condensing
1.
make (something) denser or more concentrated.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 2:44 AM UTC
Girl, are you belong to
De Beers Premier Mine
Come to me, I preserve you
and make you mine
My love is like
Champagne diamond
I've somany colors to put
all your worries behind
Let me be a Wittelsbach
in your crown
So that I can smooch your forhead
Let me be a White diamond
in your ring
So that I can kiss your fingers
I'm sure, being with is like staying
in a Cubic zirconia
My love is more denser;
I will never let you hurt
Girl, you are a Koh-I-Noor;
everyone fights for your beauty
and value..
But I'm Robin hood;
I always fight for your good!
----de3pak
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
We are the roaches of men
They treat me like the left overs..
burnt and small..
Roaches...
crawling from the cracks
of ghettos
waiting for extermination..
But we just multiply rapidly
hard shells of soft skin..
that bullets constantly find...
they call it enforcement..
We call it fear...
negrophobia...
they are afraid of our skin..
The power behind our beings..
They look at us as sin
We are the Roaches of men
unwanted house guest
feeling their
Entomophobia...
Creating more and more traps
for us to fall in..
Stomping our pride
with their steel boots...
Once upon a time
they could never **** our minds...
But they've found new forms of poisons
That have burnt us down
to smoking ourselves...
constantly...
as if is normal to see a young black mans
skin leaking smoke from the holes in his chest..
the smells of burning flesh..
that once swung from branches
in the southern sun.
Strange fruits to...Weeds... to roaches..
I bet they'll test
the theory of survival..
when they nuke us..
You 'know roaches don't say much...
they just create a lot of scatter..
but they create louder sounds together
and we can't even stand united
so our voices will never be heard..
just left in ash trays awaiting disposal..
as the stench or our smoking silence lingers in the air..
When will our dying embers once again catch flame
and burn away this despair..
we are stronger than memories
denser than air..
we are Power
Surviving long after the many times
we were suppose to be extinct....
Choices of Strength..
that we need to find again
We are the Roaches of Men...
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
Black widow, waiting for a strike,
Crouching small, behind your mike.
You love to see contestants cringing,
This is a quiz; it’s not a lynching.
Face ******* up behind her glasses.
I’ve seen better bums on lasses.
Centre spot on stage she poses,
A jagged thorn on jet-black roses.
She’d like us to believe, I think.
She’d never be the weakest link.
Superior look upon her face,
Shame about the old boat race.
What’s this I see? You have a degree?
Still, you’ll never be as good as me.
Who chose that dress? Don’t like the shirt!
She loves to dig and throw the dirt.
Oh! And you belong to Mensa.
I’ve never met anyone who’s denser.
This is a quiz, I hope you know?
You’re the weakest link; you’ll have to go.
She earns more money than the Queen.
She’ll never be an old has been.
Was she born or just invented?
Let’s hope the moulds been lost or dented.
Where do you come from? No don’t know it.
Still you’re common and you show it.
I’m from Liverpool; I’m a Scouse,
You ought to see my big fine house.
It’s easy when you have the answers; see!
Too believe you are much cleverer than we.
But you’re not that clever, Ann we think.
Oh and one more thing, I Hate That Wink!
Dec 29, 2009
Dec 29, 2009 at 11:52 PM UTC
Lady from deepest dirt, deeper than the ocean, denser than Marianas Trench, speaks so proper, in a sweet subtle voice: “I do.”
Gentleman from highest sky, higher than the clouds, brighter than the morning star, speaks so assertive in a firm and quiet whisper: “I do.”
No hesitation in either of their voices, as always they give off the radiant atmospheric glow of love. In their lives, long lasting is his proposal, long lasting is her gaze.
The greatest of events is this wedding, greater than time itself.
He is a ‘gift from God’ to her, and he forever ‘excels’ to stay by with her.
He dreamt of her before, but never like this, she fantasized her wedding but never dreamt of him.
Can there be anything more right than the love of husband and wife?
Can there be anything more right than the pact they have formed?
Can there be any place more special than the familial bond?
If there is than by the magnitude of heaven, it should be destroyed.
Hope is so well-founded, faith is so assured, joy is so abundant, but love creates them all.
He never lost trust in her, she always felt rested in his arms.
Kisses always tenderly embraced, a long ogle at all times; every coming together.
He stands always ***** never bended to one knee, she understood as the love they share together was and is always never traditional.
They understand each other with little but a gaze, they care for so little else but their love.
No necessary dreams of the future anymore; fantasies are now their reality.
Dreams exist outside of the head: the nightmares will be fought together.
The dragon is far from slain, but together they ward it off as one.
One flesh, One soul, One mind, One heart, all fighting together.
The battle will be forever, but Love never fails.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:46 AM UTC
The woods have become denser
Where roots have gone deeper
Lost between the intricate mesh
Of the branches and that hold
Embracing each other in a synergy
Here the lost soul is looking for a way
To navigate between the labyrinth
Ideas and thoughts are not porous
Ground realities have become grim
Recoiled are the roots deep within
Looking to move away from the lacunae
As the woods come closer and grasp
This soul has no answer to the questions
Pertinent doubts are raised
No looking away from the harsh world
Feeling crushed between two realities
A hallucinatory phase feels so real
Nothing but prisoners we are
Caught between the woods of reality
Souls filtered us through travails
Here are the sediments seeping
Deep into the ground, where roots reclaim
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
I am a shadow of my former self
or my future self
when I stand in a place
or when I run
I never know which way I'm facing,
I never know which shadow I am.
I move only when my shadow moves,
which ever one it may be,
Yet my wish is to remain still
and watch,
maybe the shadow dares to move
on its own accord,
But when I look down
my shoes
blend with the impenetrable darkness,
and when I look up
I am blinded
by the light that I cannot see,
I do not know which shadow is longer
and which is denser,
but I do know that the best part of me
hides
somewhere between them,
in plain view
like a lamppost.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 5:13 AM UTC
It's happened again
cupid has cycled his laughing cast
Without discretion, displayed in viscous currents
One man finds a mate
through an easy game of chase the scar,
Lazy frowning and statued emotion
Her eyes sparkled in such a kindred flame
Artificially, just as the sad boy does
rebounding desperation on both parts
He as the hermit,with a minimal compassion
She played the role for all affection
Drove her half mad, cutting lonely
A last chance to see him to the dance
pupils strayed off, eating the smoke
For a couple months, I think, maybe more
Distance was death for the loving seperation
Caring is old, the premature pleasure maker
Chakra cats and Vampire disease
Chased with blood, drunk on a rhapsody
The girl dumped the filthy ****** baggage
Humbly fornicating with a more fitting fellow
Similar in grace and taste
Aspirations and dependence on denser levels
Red to black or black and blue
With a new foundation built
Companion demolition, scheduled for certain
Love sued the suit and Brothers close at heart
It's happened again
Cupid has cycled his laughing cast
Without discretion, displayed in viscous currents
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
"cotton minds", yes cotton minds.
cotton minds generating dopamine with their childish brains down the cotton slides.
at the beach, a treasure is what every cotton mind finds.
but no sandpaper even with a vision that is greater could see it.
and when the day is over and it's time to go home, every cotton mind cries because of the lies of his hater, creater, lover, maker.
you guessed it, "the sandpaper".
cotton minds are childish, no sandpaper would understand them cause they'd rather see a fish on a dish rather than in the sea.
see? cotton minds are everywhere yet so rare, with a hope and a flarethat no sandpaper could every show.
show? yes.
a teeny-tiny show is what you're reading and with it you're having a nostalgic feeling of your previous cotton life.
in your mind you hear the silence, with stress and finance.
your old cotton mind melted until it's now sandpaper.
up many levels and your little angels became bigger devils.
flushed down your dreams and hopes and now we're all cotton mind killers.
right now as you're being told, cotton minds are more precious than gold.
it's something you can't own or hold.
something you need but on it you let your anxiety feed.
sandpaper could be a doctor, but when cotton he played soccer.
sandpaper could also be a dentist, but when cotton his dreams faded in the mist.
but we all know that sandpaper is a cotton mind fader.
once you have it you forget the happiness and the glee.
check your reaction and see.
sea? yes in a reminder of the sea, cotton is water, cooler, smoother, and better but weaker fellow than the hotter, cruel, yellow, denser and sandier sandpaper.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 9:12 AM UTC
Jumping, bouncing and swinging from tree to tree
In a sparse forest just outside a village on the outskirts of Antananarivo
They adapt to the changes flung at them and strive to survive
On the ground a troop leaps sideways side by side in a straight line
What a comical spectacle
However solemn their purpose, they must find a home
The little one abaft of the line
Takes one last glimpse at the home he leaves behind
Oh it’s up in flames now and bulldozers knock down his trees
Beyond, just yonder
Over a hill further down south, the prospect is in sight
A new forest with new opportunities
It’s denser; it hasn't caught the eye of encroaching villagers
They forge on towards it in that spectacular procession
High up in the trees they mark their territory
Males call out to females and they howl in response
The young ones frolic in the underbrush
They mate, they eat, they thrive
Another forced migration
There they go again in that sideways march
More deforestation for infrastructure
There must be leeway for civilization one way or the other
One must wonder now
What future lies in store for these that have no place in government?
Their trails fade away from the Malagasy ecosystem
Their lives hang in a balance at the brink of extinction
Will our grandchildren ever get to appreciate
The extraordinary feats of agility they display
The gymnastics they perform from day to day
On the trees and on the ground in the jungle everyday
Ostentations of dramatic optical presentations
In their furry coats of monochromatic patterns
Perhaps they will disappear and my son’s sons may only get to
Read about them in the has been list of the annals of history
At this rate since erecting urban jungles
Of tar roads and skyscrapers is the order of the day
They might even be able to catch an obscure image of the lemur
In the form of a costumed trapezist mimicking one
Or a twisting contortionist in The Cirque Du Soleil
Nellie Nkosi
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 9:21 AM UTC
There's room for your every
Blade between my ribs.
I have a thousand other
Cheeks to turn when
You need to fling
Frustration from the channels
Of your heart's palms.
I can take all your punches.
I am a statue to your weathers.
I am the sound of handfulls of
Dirt and pebbles against an empty
Casket. I can take out my every
Nerve, my heart, my pain centre
And place it in a pocket; take it
All back out when you need to
Dillute your tears with mine
Over some matter that weighs
Heavy on the hearts of little
Girls playing with big boys; falling
From swings designed for
Denser bones and hands rough
From climbing. I am the teddy
Bear missing an eye and a limb,
Exposing stuffing through seams
Torn from being dragged over
Stairs and through sandboxes,
Always a thump behind little legs
That carry love for it, unequal to
Any.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:25 AM UTC
Not the attraction a boy of ten
has for his peers
he was not even among
the intimate friends
yet a kind of lust I felt
when he was around
a flutter and denser breath
and in his absence
paling of all else.
That early seeding
was a hushed gust
blowing awhile in the ravine of
deep south.
Pretty girls emerged from the dust
and the first man in me
grew out of first love.
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 10:14 AM UTC
fornicate
and lay back
asleep against the cold steel
heal your wounds with fire
limes are burning
lemons yearning
his fruit is turning into wine
mindless meditators
mediating madness
fundamentally flawed
raw and cored like apples
and hone(st)y
posthumously imbibed
nominal anomalies
rusted tire chains
as thunder complains
of its own ignominy
eyes awaken
lands are taken
and what's far worse
is that we have
all lost our voices
demanding silence
stem-cells signal sentences
denser than a dozen dollar bills
dancing on a pinhead
reprimand and then repeat again
the end is near
feet in fear move slowly
are you impressionable my dear
a glimpse of eternity
and your hair turned white as snow
suppress emotion
keep composure
learn to control
your own will
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
The golden tinge of the shy sun
Peeked onto her pinkness
The youthful night was full of fun
Leaving residues on her face!
Whole night the storm blew
That no cover could protect
Denser the darkness grew
Hankering for a ****** perfect!
It’s still there the bed sheet
Spotless without a stain on it
Gone is the storm with its rage
Pinkness stolen, she has come of age!
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 11:05 AM UTC
I open my eyes but am blind to the sea
My ears are filled with myths
For no creature could lurk in the abyss
Perhaps I should have paid the fee
The air is denser than it was yesterday
The sun is refusing to shine
And the lonely sea continues to whine
Six more nights till I see May
I try to sleep at day
To be prepared during nightfall
That’s when I hear him call
Five more nights till I see may
I’m getting closer I think
Based on my supply of food
It’s not lot looking to good
One more night, I say on the brink
He waited for me to reach the bay
Where he rose larger than the sun
There I knew I was done
Here I almost made it to May
May 12, 2024
May 12, 2024 at 3:35 PM UTC
I’m not a botanist,
or an avid gardener.
The horto I culture consists of two pots,
sits on a narrow sill
and soaks in its one-hour slit of sunshine.
This makes me unfit
to label much less
fathom the encroaching
sublime, which sprouts,
shoots, creeps, clings and endures
from far reaches beyond me.
It has spines
supple and rigid,
skins coarse, spiked, and silky,
quivering tips that are spidery,
and bunched as small dollops,
jagged teardrops and jigsaw puzzle pieces.
I’m not a botanist,
but if I were
I should still be struck dumb
by these numbing instances
a protesting tongue
insists it won’t box up
such greenery with the genial trappings
of a scientific classification,
or even the oddly
folksy catch-all ****
I can’t always tell what’s a **** what not.
l know those greedy
intruders growing at the heart
of a meticulously turned earth
to spoil the well-ordered
plots of a barely adequate vocabulary.
It gets more complicated
with the thrilling misfits
and their sturdier notions
of choking life from inhospitable beds
poured and paved
to the detriment of meeker plantings.
Yesterday I met the peeks of ten
woody red stems poking through
a patch of chunky white gravel
spread thick between two
steel rails that fled to a horizon.
I watched the breeze
shake their candelabra arms
dressed in sparse leaves
and denser seed-packed sleeves,
and they welcomed it.
I'm not a botanist
and I can’t name these plants,
but I can admit, I admired them.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 6:20 AM UTC
I just find it incredibly terrifying
That this blanket
Of cold souls and sadness
Feels so warm
Covering my skin
Like it is a blanket
That smells like home
Like I have missed it's presence
Like it makes me denser
Like it makes me real
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
I can turn invisible.
I do it all the time.
You may not even notice that I’ve changed- just that one minute I'm here and then suddenly I'm gone.
It has a price.
I can turn invisible and the world gets vastly larger.
I shrink inside myself until all that’s left are atoms smaller than you can see.
Impalpable.
Insensible.
Compacted super-dense matter.
Dark and malnourished, I cannibalize .
I eat the pieces of me that are brightest and leaden with memory each time becoming smaller but denser;
heavier with the weight of myself but faded.
Stunted.
Fragile.
Small.
I can turn invisible and you wouldn't even notice
because I've been here all this time just lingering and shrinking.
The world keeps getting larger and I keep getting smaller.
It’s a feeling like butterflies.
It’s a feeling like mourning.
It’s a feeling like no other I can describe to you coming from one such as I.
Invisible.
The world gets larger.
I still get smaller.
My tears are hot and tiny. Puny things full of anger and loathing and loneliness.
I consume them.
They make me smaller.
Super-dense matter burning within these half digested bits. It's a feeling like no other.
I've reached the apex.
I've reached the abyss.
I can turn invisible.
I've been doing it all this time
and the world has gotten too big for me and I am too heavy with the world for it.
Compacted.
Super-dense.
It feels like butterflies and mourning and the pieces of me that burn.
It's hot inside my shrunken belly,
too small for you to see,
all the while I grow too fat on my tears and too full on this emptiness.
I may explode with this smallness;
this denseness;
and all that you couldn’t see will come spewing from me and the world will stop getting bigger
and I will birth a new me.
I'm a Super Nova.
I was invisible
but the weight was too great.
Compacted super-dense matter.
You couldn’t even see me.
But now you can.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
Vindictive viral inception,
Sneaking in my thoughts pretending
ta be the Ego inside o’ me
No!Free! Digo me,
Quickly
WHEN,WHERE,HOW, WHY? come the questions
“No answers” quoth the clouds as they transfigure by.
I am done defending why
I don’t think I need to take my slice of the pie.
Take a look; exclaim ow, oh my
I got a piece of SKELL truth in my eye
Sincerely instead of me, so trickster
this shadow amphetamine
But my light is gone
A denser Vibration I adorn
One of Absorbtion,
no reflection ever
since this inception
…of attachment
…of suffering
…of another love
So in love it tears me apart
So in love it wears my heart
so instead of being asleep
I’m desecrating thoughts, tainting delete.
Making others worry and weep
as I sweep my gaze
From external to internal
infernal extension
referral to station
impatient inflation
we stand together in the dirt o’ the nation
so in love I seem to flirt
So in love I always hurt
I read the text on the screen….and **** NO!
It can’t mean…eye look, I scream.
Shock sets in, while I’m translated in the hug of a friend.
We lock eyes and she knows why…
Darkness sets in and she helps me cry;
tears from near realized fears,
tears from the suffering
desire steers.
My boy is in trouble
I’m in a hurry and on the double
STAND BACK
PLEASE SLACK
this information noose is too tight to bareback…and my throats so t.i.g.h.t I can’t taste the air. This isn’t fair! What a cruel affair to send me into such disrepair.
Mental suffering burns like a flame, so I use cigarette burns to tame
the Pain in my heart…………..fading away.
My body cools off and with a different pain I can face the day.
So often I pray for the day where my loved ones can stay in zion with me, oh wait hypocrisy risin inside o’ me
please state, the ideas deriving me, Caged in my psyche, found the lock, but lost the key.
gotta get outta my mind, gotta get outta my body
opaque and dense, and way late for defense
Wee wait in such suspense for LIFE to dispense, of us and our love.
WhyohWhydotheseideasresideinme, if i leave my body will i be free, they think you justgottado1morethingtosee.
I just hope to god they don't try again. I just can't take that part of the plan....
Please live. and be glad for it.
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 11:02 AM UTC
im confused
when i think
of the flicker
of my existence
when i think
about how i've
treated it like a joke
like something that comes around
revolving in the ends of bicycle spokes
when i think
good things come
to those who wait
and not those who take
when i think
all is fair in love
despite the fact
that every dosage quickly dissolves
and divorces
it's original qualities
when i think
nothing is quite as it seems
when every surface
conceals denser meanings
when i think
smoke is a sign
that homes are burning
places that i once loved
are changing.
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 12:32 AM UTC
Hope is a memory
a long lost treasure,
Faithless & mislead,
satisfied by temporary pleasures.
A mind that's filled by thoughts
that only seem to grow denser,
A heart that seeks love
yet is much too tender.
- M. A. M.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
The automaton
Encrypting a nation
Heaven
Hell
Gods
And devils
A bio-mechanical equation
Living in circuits
Under pavement
Enslavement
In eternity
We
Are the angels
The demons
The adamant
The legion
Cursing from bended knee
In the triviality
Of truth
Are we
Not to be
Anything
But seen
Between the seams
Of perceived reality
Feeding
Off children's dreams
Breeding the themes
Into memes
And scattering
the practicality
Amongst
The capacitors
Magnifying
our hurt
Synthesizing
The whispers
Into blurts
For the world to hear
Not my words
My word
Wordless in itself
Silent as the film
Serenading
The filth
With the music of my youth
Leaking doubt
from the roof
Rerouting the abuse
Rescinding the ruse
And rebooting
With the other
7 billion fools
Aloof
As toothless mutes
Sparking mutiny
Amongst troops
Pursued by armadas
Of savage sonatas
Of cleaners
Meaning to
demean us
In the cleavers
That be-heave us
Or our humanity
Self created
In the slated
Boxes to think in
To tinker
Is sin
Repeat
and again
Condemn
The denser
To death
In breathless
Conviction
To the addiction
Onset
In step
To rest
My head
On the *******
Of your disbelief
I'm still asleep
Counting the sheep
Counting the creeps
My sub routines
Obsolete
In a sea of snakes
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
Weaving itself, the dream-spider:
I see an aged man
(Wearing his evening time-machined body,)
Walking,
Traipsing upon the jogging track
At a pace which nature observes.
His frame battered,
Pummeled by age's indignation—
Of youth's battle lost.
His mowed grass-like hair showcasing
a white hue patented by age's theme of perseverance.
Beholden to years which he beheld.
His suspenders holding matter elegantly
Despite the invisible mass adhered to his layers
Excreted by years matured;
Increasing his gravity
Making him denser, heavier;
Decreeing excess energy.
Yet he obliges with his compromised gait
in reiterating verbs of motion.
Taking twice as much time to complete a revolution,
Taking twice as much
As his yesteryears.
In a witness's capacity, I relay:
Everything is a disciple of change,
But your energy...
Your energy remains as the constant
to the proportionality of age and will.
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 5:33 AM UTC
This insipid night, Time has thieved you from me
As angels and demons cry on the other’s shoulders
The Gates of Heaven open wide for you
The halls of hell accompany my misery
But one day… he shall return me to you
At the crack of dawn, my world will bloom colours
And on that dawning, I will see
When I gathered timber to set your pyre
When I bore you with my numbed sinew
When I laid you, gently, upon your bed
When, as you lay, I set ablaze your bed
I cast my heart into the consuming fire
Behind the roofs of my eyes,
Seething tears shrivel to hail
The scent of the carnations I braided to your hair
The allurement in the purple stretch of your lips
The nap of the face I once held in my palms
I gather shards of me as it all burns into the air
Like your ashes, I hold myself in a clenched fist
Like pounce, I am seeping away through its crevices
The fire I lit, he rages, swallowing my soul
To your ethereal suite, he ushers you, my paeony
The fire I lit, carries the ashes of my soul
To the one who received me
To you…
The air’s now a smothering dense smoke
I hold a smouldering purse… your ashes
With my hollow soul, in my fumbling palms.
Cyra, writhing to hold you… I am broken.
This insipid night, her stars united to chain me
Her chain numbs my soul into the night’s blue
And every night after, that chain grew denser
Tallying every moment, I bide, for my sun to rise
That transfigured sun will melt her chains off me
And his sky will wrap me away from his rays.
Rest now, ‘Twas a long way from home
Until our sun ascends,
Goodbye, Cyra…
Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 9:25 AM UTC