Pink

Pink

A Poem by A.P.Moore

The stink of skin,

The vessel you call home in,

Its colour and distain,

And the clogging of veins,

All bony and thin.

 

Transcend your frail form,

Turn from the broken road.

Turn, a silhouette of solitude and silence,

In this journey forlorn.

 

Try again, my head full of smoke

Her body made of glass,

That voice I dread,

She kept me close at night,

But I was sodden in the white wash.

 

Lustrous burning black hole,

This different god,

This god is me,

Disfigured hands tearing innocent flesh,

Its tongue burning deeper,

Mind at large, how far can it see,

Desperate whispers deafen the deceitful.

© 2013 A.P.Moore


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Reviews

Wow love this work, it is vivid, classic and captivating work :)

Posted 11 Years Ago


A.P.Moore

11 Years Ago

Thank you so much, also for being my first ever comment. Much appreciated.
Marc Marlon Villaflor

11 Years Ago

Welcome :)

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2 Reviews
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Added on March 19, 2013
Last Updated on March 19, 2013

Author

A.P.Moore
A.P.Moore

London, Wimbledon, United Kingdom



About
I've never had much interest in anything apart from writing and reading when it comes to academics. I study journalism at UCA, this has helped me find my narrative and has given me sufficient skills i.. more..

Writing