They came in sets of four,
the harbingers of death,
from each corner of the void,
their mantra reverberated,
murmurs of old;
scattered through the realm.
They came in sets of four,
and left none to record the
wind; the storm of ruin
foretold
the knights in black; passion of stallions crucified; prancing gods overturning the dawn; the fists rising; guttural reverberating overtones; the iron men – acolytes of past tense, emerging
My mortal Sin
Breathing
Down my neck pearls of sweat
Dripping
Cold;
Wet air
Arrows shot in tandem;
Cupid in error
Embrace me
Solely
Rubber gloves
Mandatory
Maybe one day I will go to uni, maybe one day later I will feel adequate, maybe years later I will understand my purpose, here on earth.
another night on Tumblr spent
YESTERDAY asleep in bed
no sunlight seen
no fresh air felt
spiralling downwards fast
as the corkscrew anew
no regrets
no punishment
sticks
no worries
only sorrows
I need a hand to hold
to mentally breathe
to physically squeeze
to metaphorically bleed for
to rhetorically
lean to in
silence
I need to feel ;– again
Make me feel something ;– again
Assuming I ever felt ;– anything
that
is