Writing Wrongs (Death)
Poetic pyramids
Built on sins
Built with lies
Stolen from within
Lies which spin
Causing you to stay
Even when these phrases
Are really giving you
Reasons to run away
From my poems written
In a kiss
Comparing your voice
To bird songs
This is my nightingale’s song
To write wrongs
Not one but two
Horns the devils
Return to their perch
Sit so calmly on both
My shoulders throwing
Boulders not stones at the
Mirrors in glass house
Feelings whispering me
“re-live your evil" not
“relieve” and kill
These weasels
Harvest feelings
Cotton crops words
Used to prop open
Doors to desire dripping
From my fingers my evil
Perspires soaks defences
Get sticky and unbearable
Fogs prescription lens’s
My drugging offensive
Call these phrases vines
The undermining factor
Used to shatter defences
Picking locks on chastity
Belts nothing like this
Ever felt so write (ing)
Wrongs
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