It's in the fluid that fills me, turning water into smoke.
It's the rusty nail that kills me when my fingers make you choke.
And enchained are old addictions, scratching my veins to provoke
the most sensual violation that was born when you woke.
It's in the morphine that leaves me constantly medicated.
It's forgiveness that deceives me when sins are overrated.
Disfigured souls once entwined were violently separated,
and the coldest form of beauty is to be mutilated.
It's carved in the insanity that leaks from transparent skin.
It's masochistic vanity that glorifies every spin.
But purity is nothing more than a ghost of where we've been
since bloodstained skeletons set fire to the morgue we were in.
"But purity is nothing more than a ghost of where we've been
since bloodstained skeletons set fire to the morgue we were in"
Beautiful. There is just something you do with imagery and words that i have never seen before (well besides from you duh) that i find so tantalizing. You truly have a gift and i so want to steal it lol (not really well maybe a little).
I have mixed feelings about this. I think you are replaying a dream someone told you about, if I read last line first stanza correctly. I think second stanza last line says there is to be a reform by drying out. Then the piece ends with a successful rehab.
I have to say this is one of my favorites by you so far. The descriptions you gave the readers were so detailed, i literally got goose bumps just imagining it. I do think some parts were a little longer than the other lines so i had to draw more breath to say the whole thing, in other words kinda speed bumped the flow. But other than that it was amazingly dezscriptive and fantasticly (is that a word) written. Great job
Submission Name: Skeletons
