The adoration for venom
skimmed blisters over absolution
until movement became breath.
Acoustic veins left imprints
for tomorrow’s indebted
to slide tongue and bone between.
Faithless, the heartened
tried to pry tears from sand;
“Father,
I didn’t come here to be saved.”
Author notes
E x o d u s
(the artist formally known as Friday)
A contest entry
- the ethereal rounds;; auditions. by Immortal Obscurity.
775 points, ended August 2, 19 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Honesty would be lovely
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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I've missed you, and your poems, so much!
There are many reasons that you are one of my favourite poets on this site, and this poem embodies all of them. Your honesty, passion, and ability to make even the most mundane things beautiful, are what set you apart from the crowd.
I agree with Jeanette completely; she probably said it better than I could at the moment. You are awesome!
Welcome to round one.
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I love the word absolution for some reason, so I was hooked from there. The title fits so well and those ending lines-- oh yes
Awesome piece hun 
Jeanette*~
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Trying to pry tears from sand- what a great image/description. Your last line is like a punch in the gut. I love it. Thank you for entering.
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Perfect, as always.
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" until movement became breath."
we move, and so, we live.
a depressing notion of life, to be honest.
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the darkness of this poem is astounding, in a very good way.
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Good to see you in great form so soon after the festive season.
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