Beneathe insulated cloaks of gloom–
From sought asylums
My lone, blithe soul, I retrieve;
This addendum of mind..
Make their tongues bleed to ephemeron–
To desolate death, death..
Make their fingertips quiver upon
Unclad, raving flesh!
Soughs quench pain that is unquenchable …
Thoughts shatter against paltry, wretched walls–
Of wild misery?
He made me..
Of wild misery.
Breathe out the blaring of heinous fallacies–
The swollen faces..
Bare the thoughts of dreary
And see by heart,
What heart nills to see.
Photo Cred: Wally.