The Poet Pages
It slithers through the grey
behind blind euphoria
to assassinate in blood,
the open mind.
it saturates stagnancy,
holding across the line,
I'm another saint and a sinner,
I’m the truth and I’m the enemy...
a pariah born from the holy creed.
Caught in the echoes
of the words that were left for me,
torn apart in this divide
...how could this be?
2. Angels & Demons
3. The Crow
4. Down Below
5. The Funeral
absence of light smears
in full colour.
good to read you.
Nothing but everything unknown,
friction of an addiction and the fiction
is this faith carved into these bones?
the words are stripped bare,
what have they left for the flesh?
nothing, never written in stone.
lost in these dead end streets, each lonely night
the senses yearn,
as the city burns; watercolours in whisky twilight,
broken and weary searching for a name,
bleached white fireflies, the lover's rain
each drop a mural,
'till he comes again.
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