The Bleak Landscape

In this cruel summer, 
body becomes a river― 
embroiled in sun. 
Gnomes tied to our 
bones dragging you down. You clasp the portal 
of a feral cat. 
Obsession rises. 
You kill the petty thoughts 
discreetly. 
On the edge― 
comes the thrifty moon 
in night. No holds barred. 
In desperation, you 
call all the dead stanzas. 
Nobody believed in leper's tale. 
The black eyes burn 
without flames.

Reviews

[splattercore]

The dead stanzas being the words unsaid. When an action could be just and corrected if only someone cried out for help and extended a hand to help pull you in from the tide's pull. Very gripping! i loved the energy!