Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Druid

With gossamer eyes,
I fumble around looking
for a satchel of misery
As I split the seams
And tear apart my soul.
I walked in a dualistic
Mind frame as my blood
Languishes in my veins, a
Poison keeping me alive.
Soon, my putrescent shell
Will fall away from reality
And I will be able to breathe
Again, knowing I'm dead.
Cavorting around as an artist,
Or merely a person, has exhausted
Me and I lean on ritualistic
Slits to guide me to truth.
I put the mask on, gash the
Skin and let the blood inhale.
It is essential, ambrosial to my survival.

11-23-09


Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Druid

315,093 Poems Read