deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Silence of Skin
This procession
Is a progression,
A way of ennui,
A famine of unexamined,
An unlisted
Listlessness,
Drifted
Into nothingness,
Absent of color,
Disturbed in drab,
A fire of smother,
A slab of scab:
All in comparison
To the secret of your
Skin,
The magic of your soul
As your skin is not skin at
All
But rather
A parchment of immortal,
Emanating as a fiery coal
Within a shroud cloud
Of inspiration
In
Silence said
Aloud.
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