All These Terrors

ALL these terrors / like stabbing my throat. Within all seasons of years of all my life. These quiet and unnoticed deaths... Burying me within tons of fear and guilt. Will you be a friend to a lost soul? Or hide behind your face? NOW say, are you polluted by overloaded Sensory and information like a dysfunctional Lover holding devices made by twisted Geniuses? I'm a butterfly with a glass of Merlot and purple is my heart by bruise And deep disappointment. My heart is another thing: sweet engine Of abstract lips and words and paint A soul machine of flesh and bone walking Alone on a rock speeding throughout The cold universe. So suffer we do as all are mostly Adults as dead children and all these Terrors like stabbing my throat Within all these seasons of years Of all my life; so sing, so sing, So sing and say: my heart is right And too many sleeping so deep they Shall never awaken! :: 11-08-2017 ::