Dismal grin onto still born lust
|
like a whisper in a thousand other's rut
|
slow and underestimated, dismissed touch
|
the ferocious disgust pilfers the frail one's blood.
|
|
I miss this seditious revelation of your suns
|
the fierce intimation, the abandonment for once
|
But silence girds what regret should smother
|
for in the end there lies no end in my hands or any other's.
|
|
I wish I felt torment
|
for knowing casts a shade on suns
|
expired for all moments
|
a comfort that itself outdoes
|
|
Whatever Nothing I feel with no utterance it reigns,
|
whatever torment prevails, expires me.
|
|
Dismal grin to still-born lust like a whisper in a thousand other's rut
|
slow and underestimated, dismissed touch
|
the ferocious disgust pilfers the frail one's blood.
|
|
I wish I felt torment
|
for knowing casts a shade on suns
|
expired for all moments
|
a comfort that itself outdoes
|
|
-----------------
|
Expired
|
| Disillusion |
