-
Definitions of a lost dramatic isle centered between two peeks of shark tipped mouths,
I die wanting,
this twisted maelstorm,
affiliated with,
the spike ridges,
of demise knight, feeds off flamable souls poured through from cow-carts.
Twisted walkway,
there is no sidewalk,
no ground flourished,
to walk upon,
without mind's arrest and detainment,
torturous screams deem interrogators of loyalty to the king.
Terror flux,
bending backs of the sky,
whom crippled upon days early,
I saw this,
and uttered yet what not heard,
in astral thunder seeking sound golden.
I harvested tiny
pieces,
black,
for the reason,
its luster glimmered by multi-colored hell,
portraits.
Oh why,
self-loathing began on spree,
Oh why,
fickle-minded shared it's hidden plee,
Oh why,
the prime of evil, comensed in deed,
Red God whom gutted the flies,
Then the splatter,
left me to the moon,
unknown to him, crimson of diablo skies,
the puddle grew.
Shards of remaining dormant puppets,
their smog cloud,
bitten up miasma,
apple-eater,
rose with a drunk belly, teeth biting on scattered pebbles.
And it arose,
beast,
heads,
horns,
wings in blitzkrieg,
signifying flowers that grew in bowels of soft decay.
Possessing the shape,
of fiercest of animals,
it was I,
my sight before me,
my camera's lense smeared fire's liquid.
One eye for one,
does not,
describe it's belonging feeling,
I rose with beaten chest,
and feeding the noursihed worm-feed.
I roared, freely tempted,
beyond such trees,
dead to me now,
so go,
further,
to lands away,
in search, of whomever, will shield you from me.
Each counsel with duel-bladed tip,
in dew,
of it's poison from serpant,
blood of the wise,
drank up the,
remnants of old,
pacifist,
wounds,
rummaging around, dead dirt smeared on a teeth-mark antagonistic scratch.
Lay poor,
to dagger, to reach into cremnation pits,
molded,
dust and the ash,
are confused through furnace whom shaped them,
specs of unuse.
Orchestra,
slimmed and squeezed,
notes painful to the ear,
as chaotic musician,
struck me harder,
with a labor of unplayable, dillusional, liar.
And awoke,
through mountains,
spelled corpse,
sticks of movement under each layers,
struggling for the pain of outside,
crawling a flesh-made cave.
Maybe I would find,
next days through deepest,
trench, wired not barbed,
but with its intoxication,
bought from Deli-Corner.
This deprived summer's night dream,
may end red ridiculed eyes,
finally I may lay a head,
hard cement thought dug,
into skull's imprint,
surrounded, the chalkline became.
- by WereSquishy |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 08/25/2009 |
- Skip
- Title: Morbid
- Artist: WereSquishy
- Description:
- Date: 08/25/2009
- Tags: morbid
- Report Post
Comments (0 Comments)
No comments available ...
Just somethin I whipped up
Could be a poem, could be a...
The holidays feelings...
This how i felt about a guy...