a slippery fall away within
crafts a grin-gloved guise
i'm choking on nine wasted lives
& spent upon belate goodbyes
the light poured out
like siren-sounds of time
i'm gasping after air gone out
the left is rotting out in rhyme
i'll be bare before benign
she'll write the colors of my sin,
like tattoo scars, upon my skin—
a road map of the paths malign
No comments:
Post a Comment
I don't intend to enforce censorship on this blog. Please show mature judgment and common courtesy. Thank you. (Note: All draft-tagged entries are subject and prone to revision.)