sinful angel falling into the inner realm of hell.
Earth so heavy .Mud sticks to soul .
Bad days, trembling beneath rags .
Malaise in the cold seasons of endless rain .
Edgar Poe leaves the gambling den ...
Stuffed birds along the horizon line
spread feverish mucus ...
Everything painted in gloomy watercolors .
Miss mad wanders the streets .
Clinical white all over ...
Day more so than the night .
A vestal virgin awaiting the bloody wedding ...
Crime boulevard ,sublime tragic !
The hanged warm up the chilled whores .
Drunken specters in the taverns .
Semen oozing from the torn-open tombs .
Requiem accompanying the solemn dirge...
Noble allies with the vile .
Triumph of creation bestowed upon flies !
victory of decomposed green and blue .
Hospital open to all type of dementia !
Nobody missing in the dream ,
Mistery John Berryman ...
Beg , abandonned corpus ,
tossed about by algae and crustaceans...
Blackfriars chanting the evil gospel !
Neurotic fate of the perverted host ...
Pluto you've finally gotten your revenge !
I greet you sirupy sadness !
Bless you jolly mortuary !
And now lady death returns
between crematorium of autumn
and winter's sputum ...
the horror of life feeds on the ecstasy of suicide !
Alcohol and lithium ad vitam aeternam
without following the posology ...
Lobotomized happiness amid the sulfuric fumes
of a brown plague epidemic ...
-
Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 13th, 2026 11:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3

Offline)
Comments1
The confession of a mind locked between the "crematorium of autumn and winter’s sputum ." Poetry here becomes a final, desperate act of auto-psychoanalysis.
imagination does not necessarily heal pain but it gives it form even if that one is chaotic .
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