The Dark Poet

O, letting my thirsty, thirsty thoughts slip off from the back of my head onto the screen of your great lie as smart as a whip leads me back to the berry field where we used to stroll our shadows, to ravage this love, smearing it with berries so bloody! Then, my thoughts and I were cute and at ease, patching the crack in the mirror of your life, with a quill deplumed from my own piece. And I humbly affixed the signature of my lips, on yours, for posterity when you were so well asleep in my cure. But why, oh why, you let a bumble bee remind you your failed history? Ah, now... you’re the loneliness of my poetry! Wild you, wild you, don’t you really darn know a bit of what you sow is what you reap? That to the uselessness of nights you’ll bow... O, letting my thirsty, thirsty thoughts slip... beware, for I surely know how to pray!