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Posts Tagged ‘scythe’

On a white bed, someone is sleeping dear

deep to a dreamland of no return but only

strangers and lovers peering translucent

appearing sad as if they were caged

 

by someone whose scythe has killed

and slit the necks of flowers too eager.

And push them into garland and vases

as if sudden death is a beautiful thing.

 

And  the twin blood-red moon gave birth-

two distant runners racing past each other

galloping silken terrain but their footsteps

leave no traces- only their colorless ordeal.

 

They call them tears.

 

Like lamentations of loss, a dirge, a song

wailed and escaped through cracks

and crevices of consciousness. A proof

that breath is extinguished like candles.

 

Whose spirit wafts the room to shake

and pound the doors with its fists

while the priest can no longer hear

the trite confessions of a sinner.

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A mirror shatters,
it fell into my hands
cuts and blood drops
races as fast
with my self-esteem.

Blame the alter-ego
Ignore the unadulterated
whispered by the simple man.

The bomb explodes
until it blows
fortresses and castles
and the floodgates open
until I am drowned
intoxicated
by this little gremlins.

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