My skin is cold
Water runs over it,
Metallic and hot,
Like being bathed in blood
Drunk the night before.
Lavender soap smell,
Lost lady's perfume, lavender
Aid to eternal sleep.
Hmm... what is this? Practice space for developing writing skills... The venting and ranting forum of the shadowy depths of my soul... My reaching hand to the hurting world that we might come together over the pure feelings of anguish and apathy that the world does not give outlet to other than in the form of repentance or charity (that which they encourage) or in the form of rage (that which is frowned upon). Here creativity sparks, like an old flint. Maybe yours will spark too...
Short Poems for a Busy Time
Look up at the Moon
Contemplate all your desires
And selfish yearnings.
This time slipped away
From your fingers, tightly grasped
Life stolen again.
Awake and asleep,
This is the house at midnight,
A student within.
Seven times seventy
The amount of forgiveness
The heart must receive.
Contemplate all your desires
And selfish yearnings.
This time slipped away
From your fingers, tightly grasped
Life stolen again.
Awake and asleep,
This is the house at midnight,
A student within.
Seven times seventy
The amount of forgiveness
The heart must receive.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)