The Marching Kingdom.

The beasts of the midnight shade deepening 
in the tearless night where hearts are opened and skulled. You must be dreaming! 
Lust and anger in the mist! The blue eyes of my age! Sins inflamed on my damned 
soul! The bloody sabbath in clear view, pure and drunken 
towards the marching kingdom. 
My spirit on fire! 
The nest 
of poor innocence where the 
moonlight 
is a mystery.

◄ The moon's fame, child of the sun.

Candle burning with a blow. ►

Comments

<Deleted User> (9882)

Mon 17th Nov 2014 21:35

Like it Danny.This poem,can be approached from so many angles.

Good gear!x

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