'Looking closer.'
By blackheart
Perhaps there's something closer, Beside the austere recline. Recluse within a casket, Preparing soon to die. Imagining a circlet faded, Edges turning grim... A sacrificial dagger, Exposed from deep within. Rasping sharp against me, Sliding rust on skin, Ode to misadventure, My poem for my sin. Laclustre aspirations fail, Steeped in warming rage. Flames lick ever closer, Tempting wicked fiery blaze. Significant tongue lay restless... A word not outward come, Spouse for my inertness, The silence for my drum. Banging on no longer, Stopped dead, no answer gave, A painful statement so rehearsed, A cradle for my grave. Written January 26th, 2002 © on Jan 25 2002 11:33 PM PST, harry luck 0 • 10
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"Perhaps there's something closer,..."