This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.
Search the stars
For dreams that are lost.
Fly upon the backs of carrion crows
As they batter their ragged wings
Against walls of dead air
With gluttonous envy in their eyes.
Lay down your ragged breath
Upon the iron earth
As it rusts away in the peat bogs
And raises the stink of
Ideas in decay.
Pluck your visions from the
Entrails of sin
And smear them over your sagging face
As the myriad laughter of stone-carved ancients
Rings through the folds of your empty skin.
Grey,
Dead,
Rotting
Stench,
Your dreams are lost
And the stars gleam coldly blue,
A billion light years away
In the ether of misunderstanding
And chaos fires of scorching dessication.
Lost.
This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.
Search the stars
For dreams that are lost.
Fly upon the backs of carrion crows
As they batter their ragged wings
Against walls of dead air
With gluttonous envy in their eyes.
Lay down your ragged breath
Upon the iron earth
As it rusts away in the peat bogs
And raises the stink of
Ideas in decay.
Pluck your visions from the
Entrails of sin
And smear them over your sagging face
As the myriad laughter of stone-carved ancients
Rings through the folds of your empty skin.
Grey,
Dead,
Rotting
Stench,
Your dreams are lost
And the stars gleam coldly blue,
A billion light years away
In the ether of misunderstanding
And chaos fires of scorching dessication.
Lost.
This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.
