The unbroken horizon on a blood-moon night.
Contradictions and alterations and silver coins that left no divot.
Fertile soil in a harvested row.
The face of youth while it flew all around.
All seething age as it comes crashing down.
A marked forehead with an ash-cross burn.
An anthemic route for a voice to be heard.
The bone, where the marrow lays bare.
The scars on my chest, and the wounds beyond there.
The bone, where the marrow lays bare.
The scars on my chest, and the wounds beyond there.
Worldly pursuits like meat on a stove.
Sanctity and benevolence and purity and love.
Mountains of fear and oceans of doubt.
Modernity and all the filth it spews out.
The halo on her head and the crest in her wings.
The vindictive instability the other one brings.
The Scorpio's good form.
The Aries' burning ire.
The Taurus' quick tongue.
The Libra's desire.
An antiseptic of spiritual redoubt.
A deception of will that poisoned my mouth.
An unbearable heretic conflagration.
The words of my iconic heroes, steeped in admiration.
A powder keg of sentimentality.
My ancestral heart for the courage and the nerve.
Things that should be felt and never heard.
No comments:
Post a Comment