Originally, this was supposed to be a pitiful lament aimed at my own ineptitude and the general joy if always feeling inadequate at the most inopportune times. I’ve manage to turn it into something else. I suppose the message is quite obvious. At least I hope it is.



Is this all but vivid dream,
Frisking fevering alive?
Truth be told, it all does seem
Hateful agonising shrive.
In a haze of salty air
She blasphemes and she defiles –
In a daze of dark despair
She speaks sorrow in her smiles.
Lavishing with scribbled signs,
Only I may tell the tale –
Vanity in tasteless rhymes
Equivocally grown stale.
Terrifying is this curse
Hindering my hungry voice
Entombed in this very verse,
Nurturing the narrow noise.
If this is but vivid dream,
May I sleep my breath away,
Forever beneath the gleam,
Under this enthralling sway,
Craving each forbidden touch,
Killing every sense of pride,
Evoking a wrath misjudged,
Dwelling deviant inside.

This entry was posted in "Poems".

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