My head hits the pillow
Blood splatters across the sky
I resist sleep
I wonder if there's a trial
Now
The sky is a pretty lilac
It must be, I imagine
When daylight's streaking
Apprehension round every
Corner of despotic charm
But oh, it is midnight
Here even my tears
Are pools of coal
My arms feel heavy
My shoulders droop
I swim in the Red sea
The salt, a tang that mixes
With my spiced brown tongue
Fashioned from the soil of independence
My eyelids fight to hide away oracles
From reality
Callous illusion
For I
(E
Ye')
Witness standing
Apart but center
My fingers feel numb
As they drag me to Neverland
To the choice I never made
'These violent delights have violent ends'
I struggle to not give in
Nemesis and heartache
Take my hand
I capture a sword in my left
Crimson tears embrace the drowning flood
An extension of my soul in the right
The ruffle of paper-sheets
Of longing, death and time
The hour creeps towards three
I struggle still
Against unconsciousness
The town ringing with scarlet emptiness
And the promise of a new dawn hung from it's tallest tower
Eye(I) stand
Witness
Bereft
And plunge into a rapidly
Clawing Abyss.
YOU ARE READING
Under The Shade Of A Thousand Wayward Suns
PoetryWhat am I. An answer. A plea. Death's old friend, grief. Bury me In a field Of Cereus And watch me Bloom When all the world Is asleep. This is where We come to mourn; From the beginning, From the beginning, From the beginning.
