deepundergroundpoetry.com
Monochrome skies and wine bottle corks.
I lay in my kingdom of sensitive certainty,
scowling at monochrome skies
studded with wine bottle corks.
Tonight is the remembrance of misgivings.
Eyes in scarlet clouds cry whiskey,
gaping mouths spit out antibiotics.
I hear powdery sand sifting through glass confines,
hammering the bottom with infinite thudding.
Except this is a trick of the ears,
nothing is ever endless (hallelujah; praise the demons).
An apple appears on my palm: temptation.
Plastered on the fruit; written in snake skin,
is the promise of eternal life for one bite.
I throw it away; not interested in the suffering.
When landed, a smiling sunflower made of stone
saunters out of the soil carelessly.
On each petal an R.I.P is imprinted;
On the stem, name after name is listed.
I pick up the apple again.
It shrivels and blackens immediately,
searing my palm. I fling it away.
The fruit disintegrates into flames while in flight.
In the middle of my hand is one word:
Murderer.
scowling at monochrome skies
studded with wine bottle corks.
Tonight is the remembrance of misgivings.
Eyes in scarlet clouds cry whiskey,
gaping mouths spit out antibiotics.
I hear powdery sand sifting through glass confines,
hammering the bottom with infinite thudding.
Except this is a trick of the ears,
nothing is ever endless (hallelujah; praise the demons).
An apple appears on my palm: temptation.
Plastered on the fruit; written in snake skin,
is the promise of eternal life for one bite.
I throw it away; not interested in the suffering.
When landed, a smiling sunflower made of stone
saunters out of the soil carelessly.
On each petal an R.I.P is imprinted;
On the stem, name after name is listed.
I pick up the apple again.
It shrivels and blackens immediately,
searing my palm. I fling it away.
The fruit disintegrates into flames while in flight.
In the middle of my hand is one word:
Murderer.
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