Why doth ye heart fight thy logic?
In spectacle grief in one's frolic
Graves layeth open for thine tears
With gaping ears,
lest that none truly hears. Thou proclaimed to ye love,
Falling on deaf ears. The words hath been spoken only into ye fears.
Hast thou tortured thine Own love?
Shalt thou love on, or become free of?
Thy love destined thine on a painstaking path. Consumed is thou mind of thy love’s wrath
Condemned Once more
in the slumber of
Yesterday.
multi-shades of blue tunes
resonate.
He has become thine reason
to self-renovate.
Images the phoenix rising from
the ashes
Transformation of such
bring about
inevitable clashes.
The observer weathered in
one's own knowledge
The very season one seeks
to abolish.
The melting of thy own heart
onto another.
If the thing true once, It becometh
true once more. Why bother?
Hast not become bitter?
I shall take all of the remains
of thou love down to
river.
Purify, then I shall deliver.
Thou shalt not stop thee.
Thou shalt not restrain,
let there be free.
Kisses upon the misty dew.
eer of change not yet undue.
Tree’s surround me as a crowd
of alienated Judges.
Thine heart no longer in my
clutches.
I carry on down the narrowing
Trail.
I draw near the vale.
Approaching the river buried by fog.
suddenly, falling over an unnoticed log.
To the ground, I layeth in my subconscious.
Overshadowed by something
monstrous.
Not man nor creature of this
world.
Yet seductive, in nature.
onto me it hurled.
Thus while I languish
Face to face features I
could not distinguish.
Thou name?
hands Grasping my locks
with chin now turned
Upward.
Thou name?
Suddenly, The roar of thunder.
Lengthy fingers hold my chin
erect.
As to inspect...
Places palm on palm to my
chest...
With force, his hands begin
to compress.
Thoracic cavity layeth open
for thine tears.
can thou smell my fears?
perpetual Silence.
Red illuminated from
the creature's iris.
a void I see tilting side
to side.
from the light,
the creature could
no longer hide.
My name is Incubus, whispered
with hot breath onto my face.
In shadows he did depart.
thus taking what was left
of my heart.
I wake from my sleep.
Blood from flesh begins to
Seep. I stand as one, with nothing.
About the Creator
Shellbell kuhn
Hi all, I am midwestern Basically I am saying You won't find any Southern Gothic, No San Francisco beats, No New York poet Because well, Where I come from we don't have a cohesive tradition.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.