I want to die when I read you,
Emanciate my soul within,
Forgive myself all of my sins,
I want to die when I read you.
You scan my soul so incredibly comprehensively,
speak to me without betraying any cost,
place my blame,
on god, the universe...and everything.
All amidst the plans unnoticed,
I want to die when I read you,
Infinite plains on the desert,
I want to die when I read you.
I know there are ghosts,
I know there are hosts,
I see them every day on the TV.
Stunning my favorite visages,
into atavar cushioned shams,
leave them standing as guideposts to nothing,
shivering and accosted,
soft and stupid.
Disciplined creativity,
unfocused on all that's within,
and I can't help but feel dead truth,
I want to die when I read you.
Completing something for the sake of a beginning,
following the fucking truth until you have reached a conclusion,
which no longer serves your purpose.
This is where I am now.
I want to die when I read you.
Post Modern Psycholobabble
Comments
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The repetition of the title at the end of the verses certainly hits home and makes this a strong focal point in your writing here. Liked the psycholobabble mentioned - creative and alliterative.
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Smokin'
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This made me giggle.
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I loved the structured refrain ...
and the intensity of your work. Reading you is always a celebration of truth.
Thank you, Poet.
Love
Myra
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