My senses damned to the memory of hot and sour,
lavender and rose no longer the sent of flower,
captured representation to a rancid canker,
from dishonest love and fickle anchor,
the pain still lingers yet runs ahead,
my hope and faith forever dead
your lips taste of poison tempered by myself
but not of what an apothecary has upon the shelf
chocking down lies I seem to burry my own feet
then to my dismay my strangled soul can’t compete
a new twisted level of conscious dream,
a mangled perception lies in-between
still im marching towards the pain,
staring, alone with my shame
What did you think
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great write!i feel your pain.~sherry~
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