|
|
requiem
with my skin wide open, he would cover me in murky indulgence
the tale of solace and self-peace that has never existed in thought
the fickle providence that wrapt their vast ideals around my throat
these things sleep between the sheets
i would sleep with my eyes wide open
i would dream through my mouth
the scent of doubt
the scent of repent
so, i lied
i lied
i lied into it's nose
the base on which it stood vibrate softly
and the tones carry swiftly
the motions are bleak and i cannot sleep, then
but, i wonder when i am despondent, full of latent melancholia and ironic void,
will my body seep into it's skin and capture my sardonic mind?
can it caress me with ominious sin?
will it resent my crude penitence because it, now, sleep alone?
|
|
Comments