markbousfield

Numbness in unity,
ay, 'tis a gloomy place to weep,
weirs of restraint so virtuous and quaint,
dreams of longing grown lewd and faint,
still dead and wasted,
I'm too tired to be naked,
lay me down on your skin,
into the warm spaces you hold within.

The smell of sick has followed me around all day,
that undeniable stink,
it has tainted this here...
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Newness never sleeps serene,
it only grows older
collecting the dust of tomorrow's dreams,
In the world of the dillatente,
of screaming into dewdrops and the floating
dandelions on the wind,
Wreathing the noose in the dark until such decorum of death is my want.

In this sweet piggy paradox
I release the thoughts I sentenced one day to be free,
I crush their belief,...
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