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like god

The promise of betterment, a night owl’s talons drawing blood,

The haze of tomorrow, milky eyes of a predator that slept too little

The haunting in a house of cards, packing vermilion onto dewy cheeks like blush

The mourning for a long lost figure, sailing away on a Phaeacian ship.

What has become of me? Too little, too late

To retrace steps in the mountainside, for the landscape

Is ever changing, and I rarely tread

Through wet concrete. In my head I hear

‘But for you…’

But for you I'd do anything, and did nothing.

The garden of Eden is ever with me, 24 ribs to remind me

Of Adam. Below the green plumage of trees, lone sentinels,

Keepers of secrets and memory (the human kind)

The glaringly evident human kind, lies a scene

Of abundance; sweet figs, skin, love from above - and below.

I sense a withdrawal into the chaste

Evolving, I scrub myself clean of the layers of dirt

That convinced me they are my cocoon

I abandon and not dare look back.

I pass into tender melancholy, sun rays

Pierce me, in my translucence

I hide nothing, from you, from myself

But I would be lying if I said

My heart was not wet concrete,

And you haven’t stepped through it

Like an immortal,

Like God.

Dissolute Sanguine

To perceive is to digest, and to digest is to warp beyond repair; Do not perceive that which you do not wish to be warped. i) Cessation of self prompts the veiling of mirrors, And a vampiric urge to l


It is that spectacular night sky that, shameless, spread before the eyes of the Lord, lures me to all the corners of the cosmos that I've yet to touch, bound by a sense of child-like innocence. It is


Carnage, carnage. My soul wants carnage. My mind wants bacchic excellence and my sacrilege demands a justification. What I desire, however, is my total condemnation. A form of arithmetic christening,


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