deepundergroundpoetry.com

NADIR

Garden of sleep, the thought is fed
And bound by words I never said
The toil of grief, rewind, repeat
Those nails dug deep, I supersede

Slow and deliberate, tearing
One by one, to feel anything at all
Until my fingers are raw
And on the waste, I gnaw

I must indulge

Stay, unwind
Star, to find
Carmine

She lay there, oblivious
Pure as the dead of night

Dust from my breath, absolving rain
Erudite, yet the lapse is pain
A drink of lethe, these words of death
Whispered intent, to lips I tame

And those lips
Quivered in cadence
With her hips
As I exhumed her

Equivocation
Truth is in the mind
I won't lie again

Broken laughter just beyond the door
Keep begging for more, the vision is torn
Saw a maze of scattered congeries
A captive of the fading sun
And in their discordant reflection
It is only me I see

Binding the failure within
I taste blood on the skin
Bore my evil with a grin

It's eating you alive
Your lust for the knife
I plunge inside