His hands, honey glazed with scars
tasted like nothing and
everything he touched bent
The king's best men guarded those eyes
The tower ran over with white noise and blasphemy
and his dreams made for some terrifying nights
Promises that white capped strangers stuffed in their luggage
threw light in every direction and were just that;
the only thing to lull the tenderness behind each fit
and curse and anything else he could imagine
"Shhh"
is the kindest thing anyone could do for him
He knew of nothing beyond that freezer door and the
ticks missing from the Babylon or babylon
To be rough is course and to be gentle
is on course, but Devon is not on course
and for three minutes exactly,
he is not on anything
Idle fears made up harsh voices
and cheap ambitions
and the lights are on,
but maybe it's another dream
Devon is dead, and everyone around him
thinks it's opposite day.
ΔΙΑΒΑΖΕΙΣ
ReAnimation: A Poetry Collection
ΠοίησηThis is a collection of poems from my youth that were pretty edgy and poorly written. Here, I've updated, edited, and reinvented them so they are not just a pile of lost causes in my poetry archives.
