Scrub.
Scrub the bliss away, ye filthy heart.
Scrub.
And let the vortex make your smile depart.
Scrub.
And let this night beneath your eyelids lie.
Scrub.
And with the weight of winter, saunter by.
Scrub.
You know what anniversary this is.
Scrub.
Oh, there's a teensy speck of joy in there.
Scrub.
Yeah, rub the parchment of the past in well,
Scrub.
And lose yourself within the yester's kiss.
Scrub.
Two years and twenty centuries ago,
Scrub.
You grovelled at the lowest of your low;
Scrub.
Your soul was caged in jaded armoury,
Scrub.
Preferring over love, disharmony.
Scrub.
The drinks that drifted through your strangled throat
Scrub.
And crawled within the wormholes of your mind;
Scrub.
That coaxed aforth the dearest of your rhymes,
Scrub.
And made you one with everything divine-
Scrub.
Are devils that have caused your current crime.
Scrub.
Oh, happiness has long forgotten you!
Scrub.
What screams this louder than your solitude?
Scrub.
Interred in mocking ticks of chuckling clocks
Scrub.
Against a moon that never seems to stop.
Scrub.
And through your tumultous and xeric gaze,
Scrub.
You pine for love's comforting old embrace,
Scrub.
Alas, it lies inside; imprisoned, cowed,
Scrub.
Unable to comfort a thing but shroud.
Scrub.
Remember, all those centuries ago,
Scrub.
You used to scrub the vomit off your clothes?
Scrub.
Well this is quite the same; you have to sift
Scrub.
The last essence of breath from both your wrists.
So scrub, my darling, scrub your paling skin;
The pain is naught against your glee within,
Indulge in final, life-erasing drink,
And scrub, and scrub, and scrub, until you win.
YOU ARE READING
Blots
Poetry[On hold] Key: |Straight Brackets| - Poetry. \Tilted Brackets/ - Passionate, Vaguely Poetic Prose or Free Verse. ~Wave Brackets~ - Poetry specifically between 1 and 3 sentences in length. ☆☆ For everyone, Who finds, Not in a graveyard or cretamorium...
