Posted by Anonymous on 2019/03/09 under Life -fore art, thou Wordsmith- How be-it, the very soil upon my brow, Doth not the Quill aspire to inscribe; What looming shadow, dear faint echo; Shall I disquietly tolerate, circumspectly; Sweet nothings, with which weeps the soul, Stateless bloodstream, sulphuric epitaph, Yesterday's tumultuous agony, lies bespoken; Tomorrowday' wrought flesh, candid spirit; Inevitable solace, unmitigated ruin; heart Grinding to dust, what few shards remain, Scars whom which happy daggers acquaint, Fore art patiently awaits her musings, Is not the sun's visage sweet, dearest Might seas of glass both grant reprieve, The lies which quell beside willows wake, Shaky handed, uneasily numb, tremor laden; Is rhetoric mindful of the wind, or our tears; Do waters of trepidation console the damned; If tomorrow we die, and the days are weary, For we may ne'er take leave of perdition; what To what extent art Thine lips sewn from we, Nevertheless, precipid voids beckon, and cleave, -Jones, J.
is akin unto my hands, betwixt thy spine.
for what manner, hast mine blood contrived..
O' saintly spectre, why must thee chide.
wilt not thine inexorable favour forsake..
rent from here, and therein; ever-lasting.
windows whom glean not, for fear they lack.
whilst muscles once meant for Daydreams,
contrive nightmares silhouette's nary notion.
how must we scream, and so do we shout,
smothered, within blankets, of death; avant.
however beautiful, wilt thee be rent askew.
of my own aside; the somber shades of blue.
wherewith swooning parchment doth caress.
awhilst time beckons forth, heaven sent.
Scarlet; wilt the answer grieveth me so?
and wash away cascades of grey, unknown..
confiscate reality with persuasive bait.
how might we exist, without such cadence.
are the avenues of malcontent without regard.
whilst bastions of civility veil the marred.
what then, and when; how shall we surrender.
means doth Thee Scribe, adjudicate whimsome.
wilt these hands of naught reapeth lo, save me?
vexing enquiries of purpose; vying Poetic leave.