of thoughtless bleeding fusion
digging deeper into the mind
digging lower and lower
brushed by the grind
Invisible spiders entangling the spine
like suffocation of a strangling vine
shatter thoughts into spiraling shards
of black and gold and ember
in fire and ice and mismatched strains
Music echoes in the shadow
broken lights swallow shallow dreams
that wilt and wane while hope lies frozen
in hollow moments and fragmented scenes
Lights dance in mocking grace
flowing on an angry tide
doused in cold, frustrated rage
hope lies barren on desert sands
in twisted agony
We're almost touching the grind.
No comments:
Post a Comment