It Isn'T Arcadia But It's Darker Than Hell
This is where death is the child and I it's Laborious hand holder
Jagged night, lean souls
blackened sight in the martyr moon
crooning crows and brazen ravens tear the skies through
Crooked grins and demon walkers make the evil hallow
and the meek surrender
Beads of fear saunter a stream's pace down my tired countenance
The weary die. Her voice bleeds a susurrus...
"Doth thou arrest my poison...my heart...my love"
I only reply true "May I arrest the blade of my weary foe before I arrest thy poison kiss"
There is a place where the mad prophets speak
Where god speaks confused tongue
Where Babylon is anew
This is where death is the child and I it's laborious Hand-Holder
-Kalonji A. Davis
2/18/2010
Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2010
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