The desperate angels beckon,
Forlorn in rusty desire, 
Kneading need patiently,
Strong-handed,
Angels of dusty sorrow
In a ditch of half-remembered days,
Hands fluttering as bats stutter
In the evening;
The desperate angels beckon
In chastened attire
(Though black as the heart of the matter);
My hastened tomb bears witness
Of my last breath;
The burnt embers reside in the shadows
Of the room;
The windswept angels of the moor
Bind my fleshmade shroud;
Horses glisten in the blackened rain;
Steam rises, blending with the mist.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
She said to me please never change, I simply said I'll stay the same. Then spent my whole life wasting days, so sad, but still I can't complain..................... The rainbows come after the rain. And hearts will mend after the pain. You'll always lose more than you gain. Please have no fears, don't be afraid. Seek the truth before you blame. And swallow pride inside of shame. You'll learn to live, you'll be okay. But learn to love the simple things. How can a rainbow make the pain flow, and d rag you down below. How can a sunset, make you upset or alone. How can a calm breeze bring you to your knees, when you're down and weak. How can an ocean make your emotions long for the notions of peace. Why is it that I'm sad, or even get mad when things are bad. I guess that life is planned for reasons we can't grasp. Time is of the essence, forgotten in the past. An hourglass of sand simply flowing through my hands. A pleasant peasant, the s
Read more
No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out on the other side. All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways. This madness can be saving; it is part and parcel of the ability to adapt. Without it, no species would survive
Read more
Way past the seasons, we're cold here on our own. Winters we are lonely, but we are not alone. We stagger and we fumble, I guess that it's the fall. We've been here once before I think, hell we've been through it all. For what this life has taught me, I can't replace a thing. I spent my days wasted away, god damn I miss the spring. But summers not upon us, I'm sure that it won't last. But seasons come and go my friends, so make the good times last. Some people will love you, some strangers will care. Despite when they judge you, with feelings impaired.
Read more