Crude green reveals itself
out of winter’s coffin,
When darkness shines on a
filoplume’s tip.
It embalms you nymph of
forgotten words deep within,
When darkness shines on a
filoplume’s tip.
Obliterating wings of
tainted ravens as it wakes from slumber;
Melting away the white robes
and outcasting all rational thought
Crude green reveals itself
out of winter’s coffin
And asks for a rapturous
onslaught: the moon’s smile.
Trees burst in a rainbow of
unsanctioned colours
Rehabilitating the insanity
of myriad of passing emotions;
Every bastard sinner plunges
into this lustful Tartarus.
No pardoned soul shall be
let freely in this developing pastel for
Crude green reveals itself
out of winter’s coffin,
When darkness shines on a
filoplume’s tip.
Niciun comentariu:
Trimiteți un comentariu