"resined" poems
And there you were
Your eyes of moons
Your skin burning
Paper on the tongue
And there I was
My eyes resined red
Your little play thing
Your mademoiselle
Snap me in half
And who am I to talk?
I’m but poison
And that, that my darling,
Is why you will drink me
And then spit me out
And I will, once again,
Be Nothing.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 2:54 PM UTC
Four centuries of cursed existence, the Devil awaits to burn itself to death and be reborn from its ashes.
A hundred-fold of memories and relentless lifetimes,
Nothing is too beautiful in immortality unless one takes a break of Death and resurrect itself.
Decades of power, punishment, and misery,
The Devil soars above humanity, luring them into vices
His own self-consciousness could feed the approach of Death,
while the Devil himself starves for something he is not.
The Devil wove a nest of memories and resined it before winter,
He was life on earth, for all the demons escaped hell for it
The Devil was then the predecessor whom a woman loved,
Yet he burned himself and the memories to ashes, in exchange to recreate himself.
IA
Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 5:16 PM UTC