What is true

poetry

raw power of lust
crushes your delicate dreams
+
a shadow of need to flood
into death’s arms is not void
for you are a hindrance
+
the bare breast of the ill goddess
aches when sweet cyanide milk is produced
truly smooth as love, a lie
+
for love is a waxing moon
essential to cool your water
beneath my storm of quenching fire
but life is with ups and downs
every season has its tide
+
our blazing sun soars above the sloth sky
as a rose dies wishing for life after the painful summer
+
knife bitter urges by pounds of boiling blood
blood sprayed from a man, woman, boy, girl

6 thoughts on “What is true

  1. I like this,especially the part about soaring suns, and the dying rose. I’m digressing,but I always found flowers to be of a tragic beauty. What’s the point of that much beauty?

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