No one speaks to me like they did
They think I'm a quiet child, procrastinating in my insular mind
Perverted like a stalker at night, fuelled by the inferno of my regrets
I feel the cold air, the dark night sky brooding with every train that passes
I tighten the tourniquet and scream to let everyone know
I'm cruising for sweet asphodel, the smell of daffodils when it's mizzling
My howling eyes repent but I'm ready to sin again
Alive in the thunder of obsolete rays, I admire the pulchritude
The beams from unforgiving crops tired and falling into the cries
Of Mountain time, rivers tugging at true love, growing up in a different world
I light candles and leave them burning like whispering orphans
It's palpable, this atmosphere and the decadence
You are someone's son, but do they remember you
When you're forgetting?
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Author:
Jordan Cash (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 13th, 2021 18:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments3
hynotizing
Thank you, appreciate your comment truly.
"I light candles and leave them burning like whispering orphans
It's palpable, this atmosphere and the decadence"
What a creative lens to see things through. Your prose flows effortlessly. Truly interesting.
Thanks for the compliment I guess, good day to you wherever you are.
Interesting write Jordan although I see such pain in this (
I'm no stranger to pain, it echoes in me.
Whoa, I just thought of this as a reaction to your kind comment, but it's true and I resonate with it. A gold little line I think, might even use it in a stanza in a poem some day!
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