A broken line
Cut short for its length,
With all the jagged little edges
Left hanging in the asphalt.
Sinking onyx monoliths
Lying dormant, painted black.
Left alone to be awakened
By these tremors -
Sending them into these pools
Of iridescent crimson.
Unrelenting metal
Commands the wilting flesh,
Sweeping the cries
Of the gathering few
And the mourning many;
Sweeping them into blackness...
Lost to redundancy.
Failing and falling
Is what we are best at,
Marching and mouring
Is why we are known.
On this blacktop we pour
Naieve minds on the surface,
Leave them boiling on the ground
In a fervor of heat
And fiberglass.
Ambrosia lines your veins...
Why did you deny that?
Now ambrosia paints the road...
A masterpiece conceived by the angels,
Yet constructed by demons.
Stained glass shards
And teardrops flow down;
Dancing, blending to form the base
From which all life inhales.
An element of which
Our skin so greatly desires,
Lusts of this shell
Yet we relish in their monstrosity.
Salt and blood,
It flows down the throat
So smoothly that is seems
Unnatural.
But it is this wicked element
That keeps you breathing.
Forever this desire
Keeps us bound and caged,
And yet freedom would kill
Forever this lust
Soaks our minds
And it keeps us...
Unforgiven.
But is there any other way? |
Submission Name: Fiberglass And Ambrosia
