Feverishly
Feeding off cod
Discursively meandering
A letting of blood
The culmination of my own
Psychosis coagulated thought
Strangulated nonsense
Drools
Into a pool of
Spew
Desecrated
With frivolous ideas
Emanating
A stench beyond reason
That only I
Find scintillating
Sort of like
Maggots
Ensconced
In putrid libation
I drown
In spasmodic
Maundering
Fumbling about
In lunacy
Hungering obscurity
Self-debasement
Defile me
My every gratitude
The rope is only the tool
Slithering
In the filth
Of my own demise
Bathing in its
Deprivation
Thoughts of the rope
Seduce sirens
What chance have I
To deny my fate
The rope is only the tool
Reverberates soundly
Surrounding me of my failures
Swept up
In a deluge of self-hatred
The rope is only the tool
Yes!!! Damn You!!!
But I
Prefer the slow
Deprecation
Of the Blade
YOU ARE READING
Fallen Stars
PoetryA collection of poetry, prose, brevity, musings, writings and chaotic scribbling from dachaoticmind.
