Screaming, the darkness gasps a shroud cover over the bodies
The panting of expectations echo on the walls
Jamming lies, force fed down dry throats, no taste sweet on the tongue…
Withdrawing from a real sort of fake
The earth shatters, grinding all these hopes to powder with a quake
Because… These are great.
Night dripped from the horizon, falling slowly with the tears of yellow green eyes
Your anger felt through wisps of wind brushing through bronze hair
And we rode in the night.
Filled more than half full in negative,
With a mind clear, chanting about how we dont give a fuck.
Because… This was for me. He’s always been a grand writer. I miss that. Any other poets?
I did not know that. How unfortunate.