"sanguine" poems
By David John Mowers
Oceanus, Acheron, Styx and Gyges, Phlegethon,
Phaeacians lament, mourn the loss, Scheria, dissolved in froths.
Virgil’s tale, found correct, a land too good, a nation wrecked,
Nausikaa, burn the ships; their minds released, cool airy nips,
Below the wave, watery grave, submerged to bottom, fathoms by stave,
Fathoms some more, until the whorl, descending to, another world.
Through Omphalos, to Land of Sleep, awaits a beast, where time has ceased,
Darkness here, underworld, cold and frigid, below the whirl,
In solemn grave, souls released, judged and counted, by the beast,
Deeper than, the deep itself, past drowning fairies and dying elves,
Who did mourn them? Those golden men, magic mariners, Mino's kin?
What wrong was seen? What vice not true? What awful sin? What did they do?
One thousand years, first black age, Two thousand more, to find the stage,
Cast off Aries and cast Orion, to find beginning, of Golden Lion.
Man of Heavens, Beast agrees, Bull of Sky, Ox of seas,
Land of Punt, Land of Éire, Ogyges blue, hearts on fire,
All the seashores, all the mines, Tribe of Dan, from ancient times,
Port of Sais, Port of Thera, Port of Lagash, bygone era,
Sailor’s horse, Minotaur, a lyre is crying, strummed guitar, nation dying, abattoir.
Ochre foams to sanguine depth, there they rested, where Kronos slept,
He’ll never answer, he doesn’t care, we’ll never know, if this was fair.
Our hearts in sadness, hands on the gates! I curse you Poseidon!
. . .and your Sea of Fates!
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 7:58 AM UTC
So I'll have mine
and you'll have yours?
who could ask
for anything more!
grey beards march
the union jack
build a wall
and send them back!
Grudge, sludge
a sanguine view
****** off
and take the cue
hide, plunge
aristocrat
run the field
like an old tom cat
Narrow pass
and capital flow
falling crude
and currency woe
deep depression,
mutineers
the mastermind
of project fear!
Silver spoon
at Hampton court
madness waits
in Davenport
divisible
and off the grid
**** it up
100 quid
Helen’s horsemen
unified
the springbok club
will never hide
plebiscite
in deep despair
an open scroll
Trafalgar square
Grapple, grovel
sentry shame
along the shore
of river Thames
king of wankers
lord of beat
break the rule
of old elite!
Stone the posse
bullets bare
load the chambers
fists in air
voices, faces
haunted souls…
should i stay
or should i go?
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
*"Claim me,"
she whispers in a plea
"claim my soul as I wilt"
Crimson lips parted,
head thrown back
in ecstatic ache
jugular bared
she needs to feel
that sharp -edged love,
skin and barriers broken
as she melts into
the underworld
of a new grace
a magenta cry into
the inky sky
sacred silence penetrated
as only gasps are heard
milky ******* decorated
with red liquid ribbon,
his nourishment,
her demise
******* pierced with
beads of her sunset life flow
as he ***** and bites...
and howling
into heaven's delicious gate,
she writhes
Her soul dissolving
into his night
and as his spirit
absorbs her vermilion soul
their power rises,
black as coal
…………….
your lips
stick black
sanguine smile
tremulous murmurs
oh happy blood blossom of deaths surrender
sacrificial lamb
cats sparrow entranced
thighs on fire
sobbing from a thousand needled kisses
******* tearing blood
each wound a weeping mouth licking
milky white alter of cold stone
saturated alizarin rust
legs wide
feet and ******* trussed
in chains and drenched rags
for cruelties arrow
o crimson queen,
pomegranate half eaten
mouth smudge black
agape
snake tongue dancing
through cherry lips twisted
darkened eyes of fire and blood
a wash in devils incense
beloved veiled
in evils cradle
bind not the demons kiss
then face down my love upon the crypt of mist
black heavens gate
pupa
vampires bate
a blood moon shaking
a scourge you are now
goddess of pleasures wretched
in the Tuileries of the abyss
consort
your every piercing fang
duck tail ****
a boiling cauldron
desire
spills out
dark cupid witch
legs tied to throat
devil ***** twitch
******* in a mote
ive got the itch
feet scorched in rope
hot ******* *****
hells dark pope
vampiress *****
dark girl feeding
the sun is no more
loves the bleeding*
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC
You may say you don't
but you know me; of me
and my swelling quiet
and they may say
over and over
in a low rumble
not to write of love
I know, I know
I close my eyes
the sanguine lids
like a heart
throbbing
In ink it spills
brims over like tears withheld
and stains the stark white page
your whiskers at dusk
the fine lines in your lips
Your eyes drip like jewels
heavy and sparkling
This smudge of words
I would die in
if I could not write
what I cannot speak
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 8:18 AM UTC
Her wolf was circling.
The ***** didn't even know...
she was being sized up
by an apex predator.
She elegantly contained this
knowledge of future bloodshed
within her own head.
Never letting that *****
out of her sanguine glare.
She remembers only echoes
of noises that accumulated into words.
Annoying,
ENRAGING,
words.
The wolf pounced out of her control,
but not outside of her desire.
The ***** made a beautiful corpse.
That angered her.
She walked away with a villainous
smirk on her face, and a tumor
of darkness growing inside of her.
The wolf trotting along side her.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
From white canvass,
a blank ledger of potent
expectation,
awaiting form and function.
The artist invokes
shade and light.
The seminal swirl of
her brush signals
simple hue,
discrete structures.
Then flesh strokes imbue
sanguine blush of
satin seams
and outstretched limbs;
spring greens and rampant peaks,
reaching high into
gossamer nimbus. Calm swells,
abundant bosoms,
beckoning fields of luxuriant temptation.
From an eternal cool,
the (all too) temporary warmth
of her embrace
lies just beyond:
enticing, luring, teasing
into torrid desire.
From whence,
the dream
unfolds...
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 7:54 PM UTC
a parhelion forms with
the sun’s peaking out,
irradiating your eye
in crown.
there is a sanguine wonder
to your cigarette as
you drag your lungs
across the floor.
citrine is your smoke
crawling across
the bed.
light moves.
a nanosecond passes by.
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 10:23 AM UTC
Tonight, the Witch Awakens
Tonight, the Witch Returns
Tonight, the Souls Forsaken
Come back around to watch us burn
The morning air is warm, but today's wind brings a chill
I can sense the coming storm of vengeance and evil
Black leaves on the breeze, a crow ****** in flight
And a sanguine shimmer to the gold in the glistening sunrise
Tonight, the Witch Awakens
Tonight, the Witch Returns
Tonight, the Souls Forsaken
Come back around to watch us burn
The afternoon Infernal, it seems they've all gone mad
To chaos doomed eternal, could it be we've all been had?
This town is somehow different, a plague across the land
You can hear it in the trees, you can feel it in the sand
Tonight, the Witch Awakens
Tonight, the Witch Returns
Tonight, the Souls Forsaken
Come back around to watch us burn
At Dusk, in desperation, the sun gives up the ghost
The spirit of the sorceress descends upon the coast
The Wicked and the Innocent - both paralyzed in fear
Children of her enemies, your judgment day is here!
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 9:59 AM UTC
Eggs, eggs, toss them high in the air
Catch em, and gargle, and mash them, and swear
Eat them with shells, eat them with sauce
Eat them with bags, eat them with moss
Eggs, eggs, between sandwich bread
That's what the wise elderly miller had said
Before came the bomb and he had dropped dead
Before being poisoned by a surplus of lead
And then came a centipede, long and sanguine
And bit a small child, so recently weaned
Off the protein derived from his mother's fine eggs
So he had to start munching on his mother's fine legs
"Be warned" said the Miller, his hair all askew
While dousing his wounds with mountains of glue
A tapeworm emerged, and looked toward the sky
Feeling envy toward all the birds that could fly
But the Miller was quicker, even in old age
He smacked the worm soundly, in a manner enraged
Bruised from the damage, and covered in glue
The worm turned away from the sky that was blue
Never with pelicans would he fly with delight
Never with owls would he soar through the night
For all Darwin's cruelty, an injustice rings
Tapeworms simply have no need for wings
So he bit the old Miller, and laid ten thousand eggs
They hatched and devoured his liver and legs
And as the man writhed, waiting to die
He vomited upward, up toward the sky
The tapeworm went flying, up toward the clouds
The air felt exhilarating, the rushing wind loud
For once in his life, he soared with the birds
Then in came a swallow, and bit off a third
His body, segmented, fell in parts to the ground
Tears seeped from his eyes, his face in a frown
From the ground he gazed up into the ominous fog
Before being lapped up by an unlucky dog
The End
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 1:20 AM UTC
*While I love the communicable energy
Given from sanguine, upbeat music,
Sometimes the hum of the street
The rushing, dashing, of careening motors
And the leading blissfulness
Is true serenity, just enough.*
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
A sadistic outlook
I hide my fallacies and avarice in a sock drawer,
neatly placed next to my pill bottles
In the closet closest, I store the prospect of future casualties
Shuffled neatly undernearth media propaganda and the war in Uganda
I suffocate the tragedy of unknown victims in my display of malice
Muffled as they’re whimpering
Sociopathic symphony
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 8:50 AM UTC
Sanguine
Choleric
Melancholic
Phlegmatic
Phlegmatic
Melancholic
Choleric
Sanguine
Blood oranges
And hibiscus tea
White wine
Carcrash memory
Hypertensive
He straps me down on the table
This is for my own good.
Too much blood they say,
Too much red wine too much liquid
Too much
My hand is swollen
My stomach distended
The vein in my forehead is bulging
Too much blood
A needle
A leech
A pen
Blood oranges
White wine
A needle is a leech is a pen
Is what the doctor ordered
He straps me to the desk
This is for my own good
A cure
Too much blood
Too much tea
Too many memories
Too many thoughts
Hypertensive
Sanguine
They say
They hand me the scalpel
And show me the line
Too much
I’ve had too too much red wine
To be doing this
A pen a leech a needle
A bucket of blood
A novel
Sanguine
Melancholic
Choleric
Phlegmatic
This is the cure
This is for my own good
Too much much blood
They hand me the pen
I’ve had too too many
Blood oranges
To be doing this
A scalpel is a pen
Is a leech is a needle
A bucket of blood is a novel
(Bleeding is the cure)
I bleed.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
“Don’t consider my words the sick
ecstasy of a sick mind, but you are
for me perfection!”
- Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot
I remember
I can taste blood
on the roof of my mouth
I remember her face the first time
I asked her to coffee
when it rippled in a minor
hemorrhage of surprise
like the request was unexpected
but maybe
I hoped
hoped for
holding fiery cider in her hand
she was word and color transfused
when she spoke
she was celluloid and strawberry blond
and her smile looked like water
racing over rubies and the years
that I had waited
to meet someone like her
her hair was tied back
in a hurricane of dim gold
her voice spun out veins of thought
fluid and manic as magma
but brilliant like serrated ice
I remember
the cardial whiplash
when she said she would like to do this again
the sanguine dreams that came
after giddy toss and turning
turned to sleep
the saccharine thought
that I might be with her
suddenly washing away
leaving only the clean sting
from the bluelit photograph
of her having coffee somewhere else
my sheets grew thicker
as I stared
I did not blink
I just drank in cold acceptance
of the stranger staring back beside her
as the palpitating hope stopped
and the sunk aorta darkened
there were no feelings
save the ones that
I remember
I can still taste blood
on the roof of my mouth
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 10:22 PM UTC
Let us paint our canvasses on WOMEN!!
Curious I stand to unravel your perception of a woman
Would you weigh her as a piece of wonder or a gruffly aggressive thunder?
She is extraordinary, gorgeously efficient, solely independent!
The love she embraces is wider than the infinite heaven and deeper than the fathomless sea.
The shallow world with its profound hypocrisy,
Banters with a judgemental frown.
The world has changed, and so has she.
It has known the beautiful rose, tarnished by its prickly thorns,
Only the delicate rose, the world, with its abysmal critics, abides by to adorn.
She knows her paths, truly determined to achieve her goals,
Her patience deserves a salute, her tremendous sacrifice only to satisfy our souls.
Dare never to shred the lovely red petals, not knowing her darings!
For also the thorns in her are perilous, to blemish a wound till your last.
With her chin up and a gaze so ferocious, ocean of wisdom she is vast.
She rises, she grows, taking a free flight, venturing to claim new heights,
She is benevolent, a ray of sanguine sunshine to your forlorn nights.
Walking proud, believing in who she is, glimmering like a star!
Born strong she is, refuses to be judged by her scars.
She is the teller of her tale, over fears and worries she will prevail.
A miracle of God, with a sweet lingering fragrance she leaves a trail,
Of patience, commitment, empathy, and unfaltering fortitude !!
by ~Mihika Rohatgi
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 10:50 PM UTC
My dad shouted up that the
Space Lab was passing overhead in
The next few minutes
I put on my adidas and a hoodie
And stood in the snow and mud
Of the front yard trying to find the
Passing station as it traveled past
Hundreds of miles up
It was more excited than I had seen
My father in a long time
And I was glad to be out there with him
We almost missed it
But I caught it in the chalky
Luminescence of the moon
It glided past easily
And my father shouted excitedly
I stared straight up and took all the air
Into my lungs between the passing station
And my body on the ground
Until it was lost
In the sanguine of the night sky
Like my father's excitement
It passed too quickly
And we ventured back inside
To watch TV in separate rooms
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC
as the shimmering stars
in the scorpio skies
samba in syzygy,
here on scorched earth
the sparkling eyes of this silk rose
become stress’s antidote to soothe body and soul.
feeling sanguine,
even a tad sangfroid,
i smile,
scribbling sultry muses
sauced with sass and sibilance
© 2021
Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 9:23 AM UTC
Breathe not, hid Heart: cease silently,
And though thy birth-hour beckons thee,
Sleep the long sleep:
The Doomsters heap
Travails and teens around us here,
And Time-Wraiths turn our songsingings to fear.
Hark, how the peoples surge and sigh,
And laughters fail, and greetings die;
Hopes dwindle; yea,
Faiths waste away,
Affections and enthusiasms numb:
Thou canst not mend these things if thou dost come.
Had I the ear of wombed souls
Ere their terrestrial chart unrolls,
And thou wert free
To cease, or be,
Then would I tell thee all I know,
And put it to thee: Wilt thou take Life so?
Vain vow! No hint of mine may hence
To theeward fly: to thy locked sense
Explain none can
Life’s pending plan:
Thou wilt thy ignorant entry make
Though skies spout fire and blood and nations quake.
Fain would I, dear, find some shut plot
Of earth’s wide wold for thee, where not
One tear, one qualm,
Should break the calm.
But I am weak as thou and bare;
No man can change the common lot to rare.
Must come and bide. And such are we—
Unreasoning, sanguine, visionary—
That I can hope
Health, love, friends, scope
In full for thee; can dream thou’lt find
Joys seldom yet attained by humankind!
3.8k
We serve the one that is the father of sithis and the void
The master of what isnt and what is change.
For his dark embrace and loving shadows will keep me hidden
My warmth will come from his dead kiss
My life in service
For the Dread Father
She knows it all
She always know
And we do her biddings
She is the head of our body
We are the listener and four speakers
We are the thumb and fingers of her Black Hand
We serve you
Dear Night Mother
Our brothers and sisters
we are one
In the cloud of the fathers embrace
And in the time we all go to him
Brothers and sisters
What is the color of the night?
Sanguine, my brother
We are one
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
Metallic heart,
Savor what you can
While you can
And rest where you lie
Rain.
Sanguine flesh,
I will pierce thee
To feverishly rip, and tear
At these rusted-over heartstrings
Rust.
Sluggish pulse,
Hand over calloused hand
Wipe the luster from her brow
And drown me in the clamor
Pain.
Dangerous dreams,
I smell the rain from years away
I recede, and believe
That time won't repair this erosion
Lust.
.
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 9:56 AM UTC
There's spring and there's summer, there's all that's in between
no listless skies of anodyne; now nature flaunts and preens
What beauty fills the hungry eye 'neath a sky of blue, serene
verdant vales soaked in sun, awash in palettes of green
There are pastels that awaken and deep shades that passion brews
created hues that trickle...sprinkled with 'chartreuse'
There's the green of 'asparagus' and that of 'artichokes'
Of 'forest', 'ferns' , of 'moss', a brush of different strokes
Fragrant plants of 'mint', then 'myrtle' and 'green tea'
'Emerald', 'jade' or 'harlequin' and 'malachites' that be
Off creamy shells, just 'pistachio', 'green apples', then of 'pines'
It lies too in 'sap' and 'teal', in 'avocados' and tangy 'lime'
There's green of the 'mantis', in 'jungle', 'hunters' and 'shamrock'
The lithe 'parakeet' fluttering and the lazy sanguine 'croc'
In blessed 'basil', ' pickle', in 'pear', 'olives' in 'bottle green'
'Gourds' and 'peas' that farmers grow in cultivars pristine
'Tis there in 'aqua' and 'seaweed', in the ripple of 'sea green' waves
In 'turtles', 'sea foam', 'anemone' and a 'tropical glistening lake'
From 'laurel green' to an 'army green' , in 'sage' ( a shade of grey )
The color of 'grass' , the murky 'swamp' , hues in array
There's 'neon' and an 'Indian green', a 'Persian' one to mystify
A 'midnight green' to bright 'fluorescent', oh, for green rainbows in the eye
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
Ophelia...smote egress, you are Rimbaud's:
"Drunken Boat".
The river you fell asleep upon found you a sea.
Your bones knew no seabed--poppies, marigolds,
orchids, black roses fill your eye sockets, mouth and rib cage.
You substantiate what color the sea may give your lay.
Its foamy waddle has signaled you to one too many
climes...an orison broke open.
What strain of tragedy now holds you, spine on depth,
eye sockets on sky?
You dove headlong into the Shakespearean maelstrom--
where mortal coil confounds, chin-up darling.
Great winds fish-scale your waters, only to invert their maw.
There are lines daily of sea's breadth, whereupon its
creatures come single file to kiss your bone.
Ophelia...wrested from river to sanguine sea, shedding trails
of flesh.
If bones were the eye of a needle...you've pulled through,
heir to tragedy--circumnavigating your infamy.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was all dreamy, and fabled.
She was brave enough to love you.
She was brave enough to be crumpled to shreds yet fake a smile flawlessly.
She grew on you.
Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was graceful and too kind to be true.
She was the daisy of your garden, where flowers weren't just a few.
She loved sunshine as much as the misty moon.
She was ravishingly rhythmic. Forming melodies out of those midnight stars,
adding beats and verses to your mundane mornings.
Your Juliet, your Daisy, your sanguine Sestina
all of them. Yet, nothing better than a reverie.
Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was all chirpy and consoling.
Solace was what made her.
Her love was fire, worth burning for.
At times, her eyes form glaciers,
arctic and numb.
At times, she feels worn out and ready to drop.
But, Juliet's audacious to hold on tight yet, taken down by you. Remember, she grew on you.
Juliet, your Juliet.
I grew out of her.
She was delicate but humorous.
Compassion knit her soul together.
You tell her, she is all you ever wanted and is grateful for.
But, the woman lying next to you hears the same.
She was a writer and left you one.
Juliet, your Juliet.
Not anymore.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 5:57 AM UTC
Verdant eyes, translucent pearls
speak in silent witness,
wounds unfurl
meaning revealed,
interrupted girl.
Safe in solidarity
prolific eccentricity,
the scandal of particularity.
Pouting mouth
grief - filled lips
alluring, set sail a thousand ships;
tempt me to leave harbor.
Arousing euphoria as such,
resistance, amity and distance
amour sans touch
her sense of humor transcends,
appeasing the mind’s thirst
a vogue sultana,
seasoned swagger
hair resplendent flame,
alternating cool, black
asymmetrical coiffure;
nonconforming demure
the renegade metaphor -
singular for sure, no cure.
Muted vanity, bathos piercing
the jaded circumference of banality;
pale protagonist servitude
the sapient palaver of the urbane,
covered patina of pretense,
induced coercion,
the commodity self
appearing abased
wearing lesions of lassitude.
Artistic chattel - eminent domain
preempting genius,
subsidiary of consuming narcissism
external locus of control;
surrender to the tentative,
fettered pendant, Venus in chains
arrested visionary bane
sterile savant, edifice of pain.
The soubrette, dubious incarnation
gravid ingénue of prevarication
imperceptible venue -
theatre of the absurd;
withdrawn siren,
solitude of necessity -
skin - slender veil of shame,
nearness loitering redemption;
moments envisage
the appointment with the soul;
ambiguity eschews clarity
awareness; ineluctable anxiety,
imago - centric confession
sacred pardon, seraphic venation
intravenous textures presume,
the tactile margins of liberty.
Therapeutic retrieval,
Sanguine,
beneath the portico of
individuation;
Your smile I hear,
recovered autonomy
blessed emancipation,
The scandal of particularity;
peculiar treasure
ironically captured
film, canvas,
prose profundity.
Ciphering as an ambling book,
I peruse you,
rendered captive
hypnotic avant-garde fiction,
spectator of denuded opacity
analogous reflection, I Mirror you.
A modest proposal - pontificate the imperative,
forgo the disposal, adapt your narrative,
the scandal of particularity -
resonate the echo, cogitate our propinquity
Love, imagination and destiny.
©2008 & 2011 W.S Warner
Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
avenue sounds are never agreeable, ignore the drift,
ignore the hum,
ignore the suburban neophytes in the city lights (I never did care much for hipsters).
ignore rapid eye movements, the flush red face, ignore the snapshots of you that adorn my semi-sleep state
I stare at my ceiling and see the cobblestone summer streets you once graced, long ago in the eternal occident, I want to ignore but I’m so very boozed, in a blue lucid slumber:::
eyes closed::: my head spins and sleep begins with the tidal delirium of dopamine drips, your legs, your hips, I’m drowning a bit, doused in a sanguine sweat inside a fantasy **** I’m dreaming of you**)
Synaptic friction
she is a pleasant fiction
flash/sparks segue a dormant memory ,
the two of us riding familiar highways::: she gazes at me with her usual emerald encased ocular torment, those limbal rings cast aspersions at the last vestiges of my will power, until, I’m done, done in by the divinity of her lips:::
There is no end to (your) energy
It even finds me here::: in my dystopian dream (eternal)
now
an inescapable, **myopic curse
(nocturnal)**:::
the nightmare of not having you near
Awake, I roll over to clutch for the pacifier of your comfort (violent midnight)
I find only a fragrance,
i flail, searching, when those flashbacks fall short
isolated into the banality of bedsheets and pillows pleats
(the retrograde nature of my reality, now readily apparent)
cdh
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 12:28 AM UTC
*how many ways may i undo you ...
each sublime
i crave your vermilion waters
copper gilded plush
falling to my hungry naked mouth
drug euphoria
drooling ***** toy
as i stroke your ankles
with tender fingers
and brush your delicate feet with my lips
before i lift you
floating girl
and you lose yourself
thanking God
for the inconceivable pleasure
of unbearable pain
as you are split and ruptured open
oh pink flowers splashing
in a stained tub
of
blood like a blotter
sanguine perfume
mouth melting kisses
heaping vulva's detonations
adorations petition
am i not vulturous
holding you in my warm arms
while i whisper in the caverns of your hollow breath
that you mean the world to me
i drink rain storming from torrid gates howling
from your cleaved ******* and unfurled belly
your eyes
moons trembling
immersed in your fathomless yawning soul
as you take your last breaths
tell me baby
is it tender cruel
are angels kissing you yet
are you caressed by powder pearlescent clouds
are you butter on the lips of God
while dark curtains flutter and shut
while i weep and convulse
in heaping waves of ecstasy
there is only you
like
heavens thunder*
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 3:55 PM UTC