Tattooed runes on taught skin are lies from head to toe.
Derelict of all simplicity, heavy is the tome.
Linear is the delusion, the story of defeat,
wont give up on our weaving, on weathered drums we beat.
Grow the flowers, black as pitch, from tainted soil spring.
Water your insecurity, and rains in time will sting.
Fervent is our drunken tale, our dance to paint the tomb,
compulsion to define it all, a sad and haunting bloom.
Searing love songs cauterize the wounds that are our eyes.
Treasured fame in dream and name punishes our lies.
Singed and teased, delusion seized, a cleansing by the fire,
the illumination fades in time, the cycle won't retire.
Go through every motion, fear for impending bloom.
Compulsion to define it all, a sad and haunting doom.
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Author:
Quemis (
Offline) - Published: June 21st, 2017 13:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 38
Offline)
Comments1
a good strong message with 'more behind the scenes' than we think. I love this verse, its compelling, it holds its own and you know nobody will ever knock this one over. good write.
Thanks so much. Themes like this are a mainstay in a lot of my other works as well. Identity, the danger of our need and search for it, etc.
I totally agree!
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