Updated: Jun 22, 2020

I can see you,

in the depths of toil,

in the life of a seed,

I see you born anew.

Take my mangled hand; and with obsessive thrill,

a crippled visage of what was once human will.

Blind to love, not a care for hate,

numbing cold becomes my telling brand.

Alone now do I sit,

thy covetous image comes calling,

screeching my name in ecstatic horror,

living my failing, too painful to admit.

Begone from my soul's freezing,

what my blood would give,

to have what my flesh does crave;

a burning of disease, a break of breathing.

Your shadow haunts my steps,

it becomes sinful to rest,

my blood of dust and sinew of ash,

stain the streets of shining gold,

and taint the painting of being.

Too long to know,

too soon to forget,

perhaps all I need is the easing of death.

3 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Our Number

I wonder, I wonder If in the depths of our slumber, We ever dream to cease our ceaseless number. Perhaps our questions are naught but answers, Perhaps answers are naught but questions, Our pride is pr

Flesh and Fire

I am scratched and itched, and old and young; I am the red greened apples, And love high-strung. There can be no words that pump as the heart does; Flesh and Fire, The forge of God's young.

Come and Get Me

I heard it before, Once long ago; Come and get me... The night grew young, And the dew was ripe; Come and get me... A voice not found is one that can always be heard; Come and get me...