this city is a wildland of decay and nefarious voices. mystical beasts hiding in the dark. steel-cored, yet kind ghosts that never answer me back. the broken humming of a nightingale from afar. the weeping of the willow trees. the moon is a witness to the tender hollow of my chest.
she looks down at me with disdain and laughs.
she says: you war-child, be easy, make a vow out of your tragedies, turn yourself into a martyr.
the stars are faceless and asleep, but they don't let the darkness swallow me. there is water at my ankles and vipers on the ground.
i am a pile of useless, remaining cells and some surviving organs. my insides are black. my skin is grey like angel-wings.
the moon hides herself, she is elliptical and does not hear my screams.
the gods delight in the chaos, they wait for the earth to burn.
the wind murmurs a half-forgotten melody.
there is something rotten and dead inside of me.
my bones are weary and can barely withstand the weight of my body.
like a fever dream, the blistering sun awakens and stretches himself out along the early morning skies. his eyes speak hatred. he sneers with glorious indifference. eyes of fire.
it's morning, but i still have nightmares of dead bodies being thrown in the river.
the anger of a lioness. mouthful of blood. my skin turns into rose petals.
the monster in the sky is hollow and hungry.
i clean my wounds with salt. no angels will save me now.
there are waterlilies in the lake.
i say yes, i say, please.
outrageously bright, treacherous sun.
my body as a torch.
my body as a grenade.
my body as a deadly sin.
YOU ARE READING
your glorious indifference
Poetry[POETRY/PROSE] [an ode to the things that make me want to spit blood and call it poetry] copyright 2019
