S.T.I.G.M.A.

  

ùSTIGMAù

 

 

Lord! Thy sentries have soaked me to the skin with blood…

The hotness of sweltering magma probes through my soul,

Makes me sweat in revulsion; amply impose oodles of blues.

I suffer a million deaths post death; I scream, backing the holy hallows!

hdõc g

 

I quaff my tears like rosewater; a fabricated consciousness sacks my stress…

Over and over again, it ruptures and rifts in vain…And I feel the aching.

As it meets me alone in darkness. Like heavy clouds―precipitating pain, I unleash it!

And then they desiccate―imprinting on pillows; on paper, it scrapes scratches.

hdõc g

 

Certainly I’m venomous, but my poison is as honeyed as hell!

They call me a danaldean vessel ―a nonentity, a dandelion devil of rocking wrath.

Heedless of the abrasions for which I zipped my lips, camouflaged my sentiments…

With a dismayed and depressed stance, I bury freakin’ verities in unscathed dews.

hdõc g

 

Tormented and tired of the prevailin’ fallaciousness; Faith in my miens is deracinated …

For the globe is a goblet of weaknesses; exposed through the narrowed lids

Of parochialists who persistently peek and seek to terminate you from within.

The twang of thunderous bangs endures into an undying dreadful door of the dark devil…

 hdõc g

 

 

  

 

 

 

Reviews

[Aryan]

This sounds like a fallen angel asking to get back to heaven.Did I mention awesome?