long twitching fingers part
the draped silky veil
spun by one with eight legs
behind the veil, the image
of a morose and overwrought
shell gazes at itself
it no longer is angered
by those jesters who betray
in roaring hyena nature
it no longer is bothered
by sudden panics tearing at
heart strings in nightly hours
it no longer is chilled
by the breath of the waiting
shadow standing in the corner
eyes flow down the sides
of the face, expression following
suit of many days before
a Gothic arch rises from
lip corners to nostrils, clue
of disgust, closure of soul
pale flaky tissue lays upon
the surface, blurred in the
contrasting light at play
long fingers drag down
cheeks, slowly, as piercing
eyes witness in disbelief
No comments:
Post a Comment