Catastrophe frees me.
The pain,
sings to me.
I have little sense,
And dream of death.
Not for you,
nor for me...
for sanity.
The more I die,
the less I see,
and in the dark,
Free to scream.
My blood will drip,
into the seas,
and from its depths,
erupt its seeds.
To bleed and form,
leak and be,
the hell I breathe.
I cast a shadow
In every breath,
blooming gallows,
my greed is death.
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Poetic Music
PoetryA collection of poems written to soundtracks which are there for you to play.
