Grotesque

Ravenous shadows transmorph
Our subtracted subconscious
When rolling Elysium dissipates
Between love and hexed penumbras,
Are you there, grotesque of hope?

Mist malformed, broken dignity
And haze holds time for our wake,
What is heard of our calling now?
Empty dreams hollow meaning
To nothing other than dead landscape,

It inflicts discomfort and maims
With silhouettes of eager lights,
We were impaired before beginnings,
What little chance came with living,
Come lie with me sweet enchantress,

Softly spoken words cause more harm
Than that noose behind your back,
You think I’m blind to such misgivings?
The poisons in our veins? Burning insane,
Would you die for me redolent siren?

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Poem © Phen Weston 2014

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2 thoughts on “Grotesque

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