***I have felt the pain of dying, thrice, but only once have I felt the sorrow of living and breathing beneath a lover's hot skin and soul***
Painted on the walls
in hues of contradicting whites,
like the flower between her legs ripped from the hollow Earth,
and now how she feeds off herself, as the only purity left.
The midnight demon,
a clockwork that sings with soul-staining sympathy,
you'll walk past the naked man on the streets,
displaying
but the Goddess of richer soils will take uproot inside a man's heart.
Like a dark seed,
and forever sinking my eternal damnation within her glass womb,
thou can see a reflection of the beautiful beast,
and his cold raven's eyes;
upon ripped sky, his postmortem rejection.
His stab wound,
his knife, twisted,
upside down he walks through fire
and over water,
skipping stones across his mountainous skin;
prevent my sorrow from escaping through her soft lips
(Yes, turn the hands of time back
take them from my organs, art thou not thy saviour?)
