XXXconanXXX
Cocktails anyone?
- Reaction score
- 284
Grass on the edge of combustion laying silent under a sinking Sun
Dubious a view through red haze, a ground creeping slowly on the run
Walking up to the flowers growing up around weeds and vines
Hands clean from an oasis as he keeps digging in the lines
Blood won't wash out with more rubbing as is painted on his face
Waters with nothing, nothing to show of what they gave
The reflection so clear in deep blue waters rippling out
This rose seems so thorny, no pillars as he looked around
A place to be
Treading through razor grass and vines that whip about his legs
Cuts deep that only serve to redden the burning of eyes that see
Even as the blood doesn't wash off he keeps scraping away
Like a silent soldier, writhing helplessly through wires as he tries to pull back his shoulders
He built up his creation wading through thorns thick
He stood in quiet conviction as his house crumbled brick by brick
So the fields became his land, only himself with no helping hand
He searched planks buried beneath the thorns
Tirelessly searching like only a lonely would look for
Day and night he picked up sticks for a cabin to call his own
Out in his own mind where he planted his feet to call home
And even as the emptiness sank deep, his face stayed of stone
And when his sticks fell like hail he picked up his slack and began to roam
No words ever came from his mouth as his eyes searched for an answer
His stomach curled and bulged with what seemed to be cancer
So he stopped in the middle and for infinite seconds sat upon the field toiling
Over creations of petals stems bits and bites of dirt
Neverending his creations gave way to the Sun boiling away his hurt
And so he looked up and gazed, fell back to the Sun with lonely eyes
A breath held in let go as he closed them for one more time
With the wind the thorns cut deep into a bleeding skin of lies
And as the field fell silent it began to weep, for he did not rise
------
...Feedback?
Dubious a view through red haze, a ground creeping slowly on the run
Walking up to the flowers growing up around weeds and vines
Hands clean from an oasis as he keeps digging in the lines
Blood won't wash out with more rubbing as is painted on his face
Waters with nothing, nothing to show of what they gave
The reflection so clear in deep blue waters rippling out
This rose seems so thorny, no pillars as he looked around
A place to be
Treading through razor grass and vines that whip about his legs
Cuts deep that only serve to redden the burning of eyes that see
Even as the blood doesn't wash off he keeps scraping away
Like a silent soldier, writhing helplessly through wires as he tries to pull back his shoulders
He built up his creation wading through thorns thick
He stood in quiet conviction as his house crumbled brick by brick
So the fields became his land, only himself with no helping hand
He searched planks buried beneath the thorns
Tirelessly searching like only a lonely would look for
Day and night he picked up sticks for a cabin to call his own
Out in his own mind where he planted his feet to call home
And even as the emptiness sank deep, his face stayed of stone
And when his sticks fell like hail he picked up his slack and began to roam
No words ever came from his mouth as his eyes searched for an answer
His stomach curled and bulged with what seemed to be cancer
So he stopped in the middle and for infinite seconds sat upon the field toiling
Over creations of petals stems bits and bites of dirt
Neverending his creations gave way to the Sun boiling away his hurt
And so he looked up and gazed, fell back to the Sun with lonely eyes
A breath held in let go as he closed them for one more time
With the wind the thorns cut deep into a bleeding skin of lies
And as the field fell silent it began to weep, for he did not rise
------
...Feedback?
