The River (ver. D)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I'm really not sure what to say about this one....

Submitted: May 24, 2008

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Submitted: May 24, 2008

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The River

To begin this day
Pain seeps through the pour
Dead to numb
I have passed the point
and in this faith no more
I whisper a truth.
Beneath every facade
a way out for the depraved
Raped and made slave
to a guilt I cannot break
the belifer that every misfortune is a deserved fate
I am not immune...
-ity is defeated.
I have forgone illusion binding sanity
Hold my head in ill gotten shame
Trying not to merely exist
Branded across my back is the name
Is it wrong for me to take this all to the grave?
Wrong of me to accept the coal dust I crave?
Blood from the vision. Pool out the piercings of id.
Poisoned by a need to fade. I am not a dimension.
To this color, they call slave.
Rip tages from chains.
A clarity not for sale.
Call or the claim, Je m'appelle
Mid hour virtues flow over the clay
rocks and gold flickers, I know better
to weep in forlorned sorrow
I may borrow....
this backwash and let it be, let me be,
become the event....emotive sweep....
down the median, spills over I.


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