Saturday, 6 September 2014


It exists within my soul
this tender void.
Bittersweet and charmless
a mindless

Betraying the paralysis of dogma
My grimace shining within
the paralysis of dogma.
The illiterate
straitjacket of rapture.

Who do I think I am?

Cleansing darkness
as complete as the dawn
filling my senses with
a shuddering stillness.

The faint voice of wan decay
whispers in its shroud.

You will never know!

No comments:

Post a Comment