The muse watches over me
Its cold
With the blackness that shrouds me
I lack the glint of the stars
Its cold
Frost settles in whispers upon the mantle
Dust lifts as a frozen vapour
Its cold
Thoughts drift like the turning of pages in the breeze
Settling on the closing chapter
Its cold
Lacking focus I clasp the morning air
Seeking not knowing
Its cold
Spiders walk my spine
I cannot brush them away
Its cold
My reflection appears slowly
Masking the hollow shell
Its cold
Words freeze on a vipers tongue
Leaving their mark on the parchment
Its cold
Skin grotesque etched in acid
Lips purse to kiss the dark scent
Its cold
As time slows and grips my soul
Heavy eyes fall and a mind succumbs
© 2013 Adrian AIDZ Giannini
No comments:
Post a Comment