Idling of the blood stream.
Brightening those nightmares that shudder.
Twisting in and out of focus.
The mind finding reference points.
All chalky talk and eye darting.
Searching the door to find new weather.
Trust seems lost again.
Blue skies clouded like the eyes of God closing.
Tearing in the rains of revelation.
Words struck the vein.
The devil tastes the pain.
What part is called to be diminished?
Swallowing in a rapture, that unpicks the scars.
A lie to curdle the blood.
A pain to feel alive once more.
Do you know the lungs want to sing?
Padded with angel feathers they heave in lament.
The soul siphoned away, bottled like wine.
Death’s most beautiful throw.
Snatching things, before they grow.

Stunning .. your poetic words continue to amaze me ..
Veneer Bruises
All surfaces bruise
Not all bruises can be seen
Pain permeates all
LikeLike
Thank you Ivor, i appreciate you saying.
Veneer bruises, what a great term….leads well for much exploration….and not all bruises ever heal =/
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes Mark .. an interesting perspective
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thibgs we often, need to do, for us, to, feel, alive…
LikeLike
The blood still pumps through the veins, even if they are damaged.
LikeLike
Things
LikeLike