deepundergroundpoetry.com

1001

Smothered, patience wanes her cure
morning bites more than one can chew
it's cursed, cast from demons
begging to get there first

blood drips down the back of the throat
in the stillness of the dawn
clenched teeth
awaiting a perfect mood to be borne

dusted, rouge makes way
to face the gruesome,
graved and grovelled within the growl
gulped, drench
in pure gold moments,
stat
liquid caffeine
needled
hooked and veined

nothing ventured nothing gained

sown then spread,
an awakening of the dead
blind
ripped corners of the mind
aching and coming to head
why hell, you forced me
to wish for dead

there's no time for love
when answers receive no call
fall,
we all fall

finally it's 1001,
I knock upon your door