The pilgrimage of the blind alley
Where the dreamy poet
Coughs up blood
On the wall of some nondescript whorehouse
Wishing he was left in peace
To be in harmony with the beautiful madness of creation
Bathed in the crimson waters
Holding moonbeams in his hands
He looked up to the lucid chaos of his epiphany
Wishing he could share it with the immense night
Which she shared with him…in his arms
From where she had succeeded in escaping
She slept peacefully…Assured he held her close
In the utopian haven of his embrace
She slept in peace…
She slept forever…
His soul was not satisfied
That he had lost her
He still held her close…feeling her presence linger on…
In the safe haven of his embrace
Blaming himself for suffocating her…when he held too tightly
In the peaceful oasis of his heart, protected by his restless madness
He dreamt…
3 comments:
I don't have words....I don't know how you beat yourself every time by writing like this....Its just...I don't know....uncannily amazing....So deep like I have just been drowned in an ocean.....The picture you have presented....The suffocation...I could taste it...that's the beauty of your writing....You make one utilize all senses with your work....felt it....n yea,amazing picture...keep writing
you have created something so powerful here that it is the story of man in every aspect of his life,be it a relationship or something else
wen she escaped she left behind memories..............2 hv sumthing written so beautifully..........it touches d heart
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