Get Your Premium Membership

Dying Canyons

I long to lead you to the psychosis of your existence; toward the ill repute of your identity, something amiss reaches for meaning. I would rather wish you gone before too much is said. I would rather wish you gone before too much is said. I long to lead you to the thorny wire crawling around my limbs, or maybe you rather fancy my fettered hands. As you have taken much and I so little. As you have taken much and I so little. I long to lead you to my endless skeleton assortments, to my primordial fossils and domestics departed. Highland mammals unknown. Highland mammals unknown. I long to lead you to my senseless heights, to the vast drop from which they have risen and fallen— The dying canyons chilled with black fog. The dying canyons chilled with black fog. I long to lead you to my fingers scratching the backbone of lost time, every tip stroke leaving a distinctive marking. They possess your hidden origin. They possess your hidden origin. I long to lead you to my clouded eyes that see all, to the squalid corrosion that cakes my lungs. Through the cavity I was born. Through the cavity I was born. I hunt for you…in the dying canyons chilled with black fog. I hunt for you…in the dying canyons chilled with black fog. I hunt for you…in the dying canyons chilled with black fog. I hunt for you…in the dying canyons chilled with black fog.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 2/24/2025 4:23:00 PM
You've something quite special here Poetess. The lyrical wingtips of your wisdom are sensational. You speak of a disillusioned devotion, I wonder to whom, or to what...what is it that your focused fingertips are spelling on that exquisite spine of Time ? One would undoubtably need to be versed in Love to know. I love it when your ancient pulse is on display Laura. This poem is another FAV!, you have the most in my file :) ...J.A.B.
Login to Reply
Breidenthal Avatar
Laura Breidenthal
Date: 2/24/2025 5:49:00 PM
I adore hopping between realms… between the ancient pulse you speak of and the ill immediate. The light and the crushing… this realm here is chillier than most… a place I tend to stay. Glad the black fog of it made it to your keen perception. I’m thrilled to be the most in your file favs, Justin—likewise (: <3 Laura
Date: 2/24/2025 12:19:00 PM
You always had a dark side to your writing. This one feels cold and damp. Your repeated monos add to the spookiness. I employed the same in my poem - Poe's Untimely Demise. I'll never forget your epic. How you landed on the other side of that one sane is a miracle
Login to Reply
Breidenthal Avatar
Laura Breidenthal
Date: 2/24/2025 5:50:00 PM
ps: a darker one is looming! And sane? Whoever said I was sane ;D
Woody Avatar
Tom Woody
Date: 2/24/2025 5:49:00 PM
Yes, that one. My comments are all gone because I deleted my former account
Breidenthal Avatar
Laura Breidenthal
Date: 2/24/2025 4:49:00 PM
Ahh Light on the Devil’s Chord? Gosh what a ride. Thank you for taking the time to read this one. And for reading that insanity of an epic…. Unless of course you meant another. Hah. Thanks Tom. I’ll take a look at the Poe one you mentioned. I’m a big fan of Poe. But you probably know that already…. Hah! <3

Book: Reflection on the Important Things