Terrors fragile, tease the night, perfect and safe they allure.
Poisoned apples red with easement, fat with sweet liqueur.
A molasses prison within a dream, a sleep with no stone cast.
Whispers delusion into tired bone, pledges asylum vast.
Thicker than reason and gilded neatly at every golden seam,
wont let it grow without a mess, a mess I cannot clean.
lust maroon for pathways mild and burden a fraction lighter
Saturate us, destroy our home, the noose a fraction tighter.
The call of sleep is oh so sweet, the phalanx wilts, fatigued.
Demon lend me another drink, as I'm thoroughly intrigued.
Oh there is? Through the pass? Shelter to weather the storm?
Say its ok, it's easy and pure, but ultimately, forlorn.
No matter how twisted these ancient halls, or pathways wrapped in snow,
no matter how thick with thorn and swords this journey overflow,
ignore the lies, the trap, the swamp, the corpse soaked in Merlot,
Fight for every fucking inch: it's the only way to know.
-
Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: December 9th, 2016 00:42
- Comment from author about the poem: Fantasy's about some kind of challenge-less path in life are not only intoxicating and dangerous, but it is also a fever dream, an impossibility.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 74
Offline)
Comments3
Couldn't agree more! A fantastic poem with some wonderful imagery, brilliant!
Thanks! <3 : )
Great write
Thank you.
Welcome
That is really wonderful. I really like it very much. Very creative and great timing.
<3 <3 <3
Thank you. Honestly I felt like I hit something special here when I wrote it. It is better then anything I have ever written before.
It is really fantastic! And, you are very welcome.
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