Deja-vu

lucaso

Thoughts are numbed at the stage,

I surrender my youth by immortalising it.

Siamese flesh turns cold in fear,

Once more am I trapped by the mirrors edge.

 

Steeples as tight as noses

And as long as sight, seem to turn

And touch like pouting swords,

Threatening their own sharpness.

 

Veins are sucked into linen

And sew a bed, a pulping body

And dreams bleed on pillows,

Seekers find only themselves.

 

Prodigies will be abandoned

And lost to a father, a child’s curiosity

And blessed by the water’s skin,

Spontaneity is the explorer’s gurantee.

 

Opal freckles ignite the heart

And craft it to a druse, waves are blood

And dreams combust in hiding,

Unfamiliar feelings are the most comforting.

 

Despair infects wasted time

And potent deviations part, potential is thought

And liquid ideas are once again lost to youth,

In this estranged recital of truth I stand before myself.

 

Thoughts are numbed at the stage,

I surrender my youth by immortalising it.

Siamese flesh turns cold in fear,

Once more am I trapped by the mirrors edge.

  • Author: lucaso (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 9th, 2017 15:53
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 25
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Comments1

  • Hypothesis

    Age is just a number. The standards of growing old comes with character. I've always said a certin age also thrives with dedicated wisdom.

    Live freely and God feared.



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