onsdag den 5. september 2012

Decay



Alcohol;
On my lips, with the bitter,
Sweet taste of despair. And
Temptation glistering
from the ruins
of a wasted mind.

Lullaby;
Out of tune, roaring inside
The dark – whilst nerves
nervously glare,
at my once, golden
fingertips.

Corner;
Deep and obscure. Foolishly playing -
Hide and seek. Simply to avoid
The fight and slaying
Of my skin’s inner
Peace.

Broken;
Wings of embrace. Tainted
By a lover’s woe. Thus Leaving,
A legacy of dust
to the next piece in
the puzzled maze.

Serenity;
of the slowly fading song –
inside the body of a question mark?
Well knowing that these
parting gloves are hung
By the bottleneck of yesterday.

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