Midnight

Midnight

we are once again

in cold white orbital rain

corrupting the tall wet struggles of the winter grass

and I cannot help as feel your suffering

 

cold as Judas sleep

entombed in my torn denim jacket

as I search your pockets for the validation of air

 

all darkness here forgiven

nothing but the ticking of your hands

slow as what must pass

slow as the divinity within your bottle

 

and I am bound to bleed

bound to wound the flesh of your hounding dogma

a shattered tomb against my fist

yet too awake within the infinite sea

your answers bleak and drowned 

with the agony of death's staccato

Reviews

[LazerRays]

oh wow. i love how the words flow together. and i can really feel the scenery. midnight is the most magical time of all.

[Perdition]

Well, I'd hate to downplay three am when the "slings and arrows" and shadows from what is to come, begin to take their slithery venomous place in your mind but yes..midnight ..there is just something about that hour. Thank you~

[Ardra]

I like this one a dark song...majority of your poems have this feel like a poet sitting in a dark room brooding over words.... and contemplating on various realities of life... nicely done

[Perdition]

Oh ..there is definite brooding and books and pages and pages with candles that have burned to the bone awaiting my thoughts to stop. Just add the wine and we are there. Thank you for reading.

[Ardra]

Waiting my thoughts to stop ...that sounds like a wonderful line to start a poem...:)
I so understand the thought process that goes inside...candles wine and books...hehhe night in the best form...:)

[Esther]

Though I'm drawn more to poems that rhyme, I like this poem. It seems to go on in a flow and reminds me of some of Plath's poems.

[Perdition]

Out to a restless sea I wonder. So many tiny things I have released into these harsh lights. Thank you for visiting this one and for the kind words...Poor Mr. Hughes but yes a Plath fan as well. Smiles.