Halls of the blind

Since my last poem sucked, I wrote an old poem for old friends.

I can see what you see not,
visions milky then eyes rot.
When you turn they will be gone,
whispering their hidden song.
Then you see what you cannot be,
shadows move where light should be.
Out of darkness, out of mind,
cast down into the halls of the blind

Global unwarming

Red sun sets over the cemetery grounds
dying sun lighting the black with red hues
lighting the dried blood with healing fire
See the oceans rising blue
with silver lining drowning you
your living corpse
of heartless desire

It hurts even more to be alive and awake
Wondering the world with a sun ever present
That burns you but will not take you in it's fire
In a sea that won't let you drown
among tides of pain and doubt
In this silent tide We're driftwood passing by...

Hear the faint ticking of the heart
Under the sun, burning on an open chest
Ticking, the sound of life itself
whispering with a desire for death

And the world keeps being torn asunder
From the abandonment
From the ones that refuse to learn
From the ones that care nothing

The beating heart at the tearing asunder
The beating from a heart of stone
Watching us die all around, drink the blood
to fuel the loss of your divinity

Back in business

Oh yeah, ye cunts. I'll start publishing my poetry as soon as I get the exams a med school over with...

Thank you Keilantra, Herr Wulf and Mark Tyrell for the support. *drinks another shot of black Vodka* I FUCKING LOVE YOU, MAAAAAAAN!