Untitled 30th December 2014

High contrast,
The black and white of force over passion
She screams “Head on down to darkened falls,
Experimental platforms, where the waters cool
For those addicted to misgivings.”

Did I Stalk her will? Combining shallow dictation
To mimic each wicked release,

The only way was her dependence on tears,
Drowning in her ritual of sustainable sorrow,

Her holy shun to broaden the madness,
And we dance again,
Below the cascade
Of turbulence
And wasted days.

Poem © Phen Weston 2014


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