Filth

The blackness of his eyes, tainted and taunting His lips made of red wine and cheap cigars The wandering of his lonely hands, greedily moving about my body Playing like a piano, fingers gingerly dancing His voice seductive and limited to only words spoken of Gods Grip hard yet soft as a white rose petal left lying on a floor of marble

These are the last days of life as we have known Going out with our backs arched like that of a panther ready to attack the gazelle in the wasteland filled with filth of men centuries old The lies left on his lips, used needles of junkies long gone to the promised land Everybody dies, a million deaths or just one it doesn’t matter much just that one day we will all become the dirt under a Gods shoe made of the richest leather

Tomorrow is the day of salvation, on our knees until they are no longer a part of the body Our hands clasped together until they can no longer be dissevered from one another, the skies fall on what was once a meadow of the most sacred materials left to tarnish by the hands of the filthy

Author's Note

Please ignore the grammar errors, this came to me early in the morning and I couldn't just let it pass. Please tell me what you think. Thank you.

Reviews

[Chris]

Some search for a reason. Some live to search for anything. Some live... Some just don't have to be mean.
A few care because they just do.

Some people cats go out of their way to like and even dogs respect.
Some listen... to even the words you didn't write down.