Poem -
DARK PRINTED SPACE
time is frozen in the cold
drifting dark on the moor
ghostly wet this heart I grew
darkest of all laid in bedrooms weeping hue
crafting dreams
of moulded schemes
stitched with screams
collected within the years soaked in glorious sin
perched on the raven's tap tapping
invited by Poes deathly kidnapping
despair held my severed hand
My speech nailed to a living tongue
eyesight burned by the kiss of sun
liver vomited into the recluse
captured by a moments noose
hung as love
danced in such devour
And you
suicides daughter
who crept into this story
printed a page, torn and dressed in mornings rising
TIME
TIMe
TIme
Time
time
Β
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Comments
Awesome write Terry. Very vivid descriptions and in keeping with the Halloween season.
Brilliant!
- SydΒ
thanking you kind sir-think im forever in halloween
the imagery is outstanding Terry