Eloquence.
Eloquence pushes through my throat,
Screaming logic that tremblesAs I breathe through my cowardly past;
Kill my stand – burn my image.
Diabolic it seems that I am deserted,
Clotting my wrists as I shout my name,
As I track to my past that I once lived
And I staple my mouth shut.
Insane angst picked out my eyes,
Stuttering temptation, not staggering to the exit,
The door bolts as I fall to my hands and knees,
Let me see them – let me…
(To the sin that hides below my black insides.
Crimson seeps over my fingertips and my eyes
Scar and crumble to a powder)
I was a figure, high and polished before
I darkened and caught up in the battle,
The battle whom nailed me to the floor,
The war that screened the dead hills and skies.
Failing corrupted oils, leak from my tongue,
Sentimental lives within my hands valued nothing –
Give me the secret Eden to run.
Give me what I had before.
A myth I was tailing behind for the guidance;
Only the shadow bled abnormally.
Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 1227 times
Written on 2005-11-15 at 09:03
Tags Violence  Dark  Deep 
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