Eli Darcy Poet Free verse

Woven arrows of bleakness

1.
Raucous winds sweep pristine waves 
against gods' sepulchral canvas as
stagnant, sharp wings' frames rose from malnourished hearts;
ends of elongated crosses marked beginnings
of rotten, venomous roots plugged into dead matter.

2.
Hollowed caverns invaded by calloused fingers 
coaxed bitter nectar and pellucid beads:
thus, gashed, aqueous sacs polluted by darkening crimson 
rolled down the silken passage.
With each bite, a story is devoured as 
monotonous beats of the gnawed linger in the air,
a saccharine image of carnage and raven barbs.

3. 
Rough trunks and polished branches - that reached for the fleating dark 
blended into mirrored snowy and sickening magenta -
tell stories of woven arrows of bleakness and despair,
a myriad of similar, blurring threads plunging: 
upon the lost and benevolent,
upon the putrid and vice,
nonchalantly.

4.
Yearning, bony grip interrupted hasty steps;
despite their current state,
these wane pits easily found mine
(like never before)
their intimate, lost vigor fueling my disdain as 
superficial longing clashed with a guarded soul
finally certain of similarities and your self-induced downfall.

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