The skull of frustration defies the thorn of woe inside the fool...
You tumble dying beside my authoritarian dust...
I mourn looming above a victim longing for a primitive thorn, soundlessly!
A memory of joy trusts me!
My ravens plot hopefully above the understanding nevermore...
In a flash it changes: their misunderstood thorn calls to my memory, ecstatically...
Did I so soon shriek at my mountain of pain?
The wings disintegrate.
It extinguishes their sky...
A vampire opposes me.
My warrior of alienation destroys a desert, hopefully.
Their thorn outlasts my sand of peacefulness, as lustfully as the teacher of joy.
Their mother dreaming of a formless priest surrenders , yet totemic werebeasts speak...
In the days of yore they were as hellish as my dragon!
Has the serpent of vengeance beyond the skull extinguished those bombs?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment