deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Spoken Shadow
Sins open passages and jam the doors with indiscretion
A working girl on a double shift is an amateur profession
Seeking a collection of acronyms that spell love in every language
Feeling each hum reverberate off our memories until they swell into the melody of our lives
Bless me father if there be a faith to follow
Give me strength to fight the raging stage fright brought on by obligation
Clawing at the walls at the bottom of the bottle,
Digging deeper with every echoed cry of defeat
Feeling fatigue like a tow rope on my eyelids
Fingers spread in anticipation of the coming tides
Ebbing forth for potential energy
I am the levee; I’ve been your every excuse since the sandbox
Standing off against the swarms of sardonic
My soul a convulsing plague; a bubonic tonic-clonic
Unclenching my jaw and snapping forth my teeth as I chew through the psychosomatic umbilical
Arms freckled with scars from scorching stares
Picking the dead flesh and bleeding solar flares
Searching for inspiration in squalor, for praise in the condemned
Sifting through every textual tome for what’s found in the hearts of men
Shifting around corners in the Red Light District of Depravity
I’ll rifle through regret until gunpowder fills my cavities
Emitting frequencies not yet dialed in, speaking several simultaneous tongues
Unhinging the joint from my knee caps as I’m run through the last rung
I’m losing this fight, a Gentlemen’s Blight, though with force to life I clung
I continue to scale this Iron Veil until need for an Iron lung.
A working girl on a double shift is an amateur profession
Seeking a collection of acronyms that spell love in every language
Feeling each hum reverberate off our memories until they swell into the melody of our lives
Bless me father if there be a faith to follow
Give me strength to fight the raging stage fright brought on by obligation
Clawing at the walls at the bottom of the bottle,
Digging deeper with every echoed cry of defeat
Feeling fatigue like a tow rope on my eyelids
Fingers spread in anticipation of the coming tides
Ebbing forth for potential energy
I am the levee; I’ve been your every excuse since the sandbox
Standing off against the swarms of sardonic
My soul a convulsing plague; a bubonic tonic-clonic
Unclenching my jaw and snapping forth my teeth as I chew through the psychosomatic umbilical
Arms freckled with scars from scorching stares
Picking the dead flesh and bleeding solar flares
Searching for inspiration in squalor, for praise in the condemned
Sifting through every textual tome for what’s found in the hearts of men
Shifting around corners in the Red Light District of Depravity
I’ll rifle through regret until gunpowder fills my cavities
Emitting frequencies not yet dialed in, speaking several simultaneous tongues
Unhinging the joint from my knee caps as I’m run through the last rung
I’m losing this fight, a Gentlemen’s Blight, though with force to life I clung
I continue to scale this Iron Veil until need for an Iron lung.
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