deepundergroundpoetry.com
sliced
sliced my wounds scream
of times, of pains, of means
last rights, unholy nights
stars standing still
oceans
vast and swollen
swallowing the deep
dictating
undeveloped dreams
deluged within the past
it's not the end
and I've not bled out
I'm tied
to the wings of your words
to your post
a tourniquet infused
dripping in your lamb
I am
we are neither death
nor are we life
but a blade
slicing together
an atmosphere of the night
of times, of pains, of means
last rights, unholy nights
stars standing still
oceans
vast and swollen
swallowing the deep
dictating
undeveloped dreams
deluged within the past
it's not the end
and I've not bled out
I'm tied
to the wings of your words
to your post
a tourniquet infused
dripping in your lamb
I am
we are neither death
nor are we life
but a blade
slicing together
an atmosphere of the night
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 6
reading list entries 2
comments 4
reads 432
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.