ache 2 (1/22/2017)

My thirst for words, a euology
written in breath, without or without me
exhumed puzzles without rest
in sterility I acquiesce.

 a lion's mane to split the feifdom
ten thousand pieces, ever smaller
'Tween strong war cannibals, these chieftains
diminishing the old relic honor.

 so much smaller than the shatter'd sum
of parts so much heavier in drowned
soaking weight of blood carried, succumb'd
a currency of sinners abound

and here true relics sit, throned in chill
crush'd small in hospital prison cells,
and in iron weight:of iron will
time's torsion'd heroes, miss'd boat and knell
we've seen you heaven, fallen promised lands
homeward bound to living hell

an eternity undying
the fickle in the just, we jest
crushed by our own hopeful, weighted chests
not never smaller than today
tomorrow dies another day.

on a throne he wept himself into a sea

◄ Teeth

the rifleman that played in minors (1/27/2017) ►


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