deepundergroundpoetry.com
Nightshade
Can you not hear, such mad symphonies of lively despair
whose rhythm beats to the sound of lust
Harkening back to a sense of erratic euphoria, permeating my soul’s ideals of innocence
It is at this moment when my world turns cold
As her tears run down, the silent streams emerge into roaring rivers rendering hopes of intoxication dull to the senses.
To me, her face became a living canvas upon which
a rapture of unspoken melodies erupt a into a withering storm of swords rushing deep through my head
The language of emotion may not console itself into the deepest recesses of human kind
It must evolve until it may envelope one’s stream of consciousness, and render it void of purity
We must find each other, for the Shimmer of love that is lost in her eyes beckons a welcomed burden
She longs for the grip of a cold embrace to envelope her tragic world
Live your life, in the pale void of seduction, and find that it guides the soul in search of what it longs for the most
It is the primal scourge of pleasure that dwells under all facets of emotion, unaffiliated with any rhyme or reason
I have gravitated towards the beauty in the darkest microcosms of love and fear, where the realms of emotional existence intertwine
Conceiving a work of the finest melodies the mind may endure
We lie amongst the dead, as God’s lost children
Aimlessly searching for solace within the redemption of others
The stench of withering corpses subjugated to decay beneath the gripping miasma of life’s trepidations
a foreword assault on the senses
Which dilutes the mind and triples the heart
We now carry the plague of man’s damnation
Let me look upon you one last time
I long for the soft touch of your affection to hold me together once more
If we never see each other again, never forget me
Never forget us
For the redemption you seek is an incantation of the mind,
You may find yourself lost in it, but never lose it
whose rhythm beats to the sound of lust
Harkening back to a sense of erratic euphoria, permeating my soul’s ideals of innocence
It is at this moment when my world turns cold
As her tears run down, the silent streams emerge into roaring rivers rendering hopes of intoxication dull to the senses.
To me, her face became a living canvas upon which
a rapture of unspoken melodies erupt a into a withering storm of swords rushing deep through my head
The language of emotion may not console itself into the deepest recesses of human kind
It must evolve until it may envelope one’s stream of consciousness, and render it void of purity
We must find each other, for the Shimmer of love that is lost in her eyes beckons a welcomed burden
She longs for the grip of a cold embrace to envelope her tragic world
Live your life, in the pale void of seduction, and find that it guides the soul in search of what it longs for the most
It is the primal scourge of pleasure that dwells under all facets of emotion, unaffiliated with any rhyme or reason
I have gravitated towards the beauty in the darkest microcosms of love and fear, where the realms of emotional existence intertwine
Conceiving a work of the finest melodies the mind may endure
We lie amongst the dead, as God’s lost children
Aimlessly searching for solace within the redemption of others
The stench of withering corpses subjugated to decay beneath the gripping miasma of life’s trepidations
a foreword assault on the senses
Which dilutes the mind and triples the heart
We now carry the plague of man’s damnation
Let me look upon you one last time
I long for the soft touch of your affection to hold me together once more
If we never see each other again, never forget me
Never forget us
For the redemption you seek is an incantation of the mind,
You may find yourself lost in it, but never lose it
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