A Heart Dyed Deep
A heart dyed deep in blackness, whistled
As the kettle boiling,
So shrill beyond the bedroom door
Like turbines pumping, toiling;
Screaming like a rusty hinge, caked
In need of oiling,
For in it’s gangrene seepage
Stained the sheets with angst and soiling.
A heart dyed deep in blackness, hungered
Feral jaws in essence,
Alive with worms and ravaged cells,
Of darkest incandescence;
Yawning vaults of hatred, gaped
Through vacant omnipresence,
And in a final testament
No love save acquiescence.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2006
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