COLLAPSED STAR
Pastel clouds,
hang over sadness
like night,
draws black satin curtains
over absent-minded eyes.
Darkness drips,
Collapses Star
bold and black bottomless chasm
dragging dirt and debris of past-
lifeless haze hangs heavily
overhead pressures plummet-
She sinks,
into rain filled with pain
She steeps,
deeper into blood shamed marrow,
she spoils inside rotten,
staggering through the storm-
Alone
She bleeds stone through cracks
in cold hearts; her roots shaken,
she's stirred, undernourished,
depleted, sick dried up and calloused
in the belly of Venus.
Her shape,
full round purple planet
held at the base of my lunar spine
yet, the wreckage remains blurred-
How does the universe implode?
Explode!
yet I can still hear grief-stricken screams
petrified, calcified inside the bones of ribs-
Skeleton dribbles and drains,
scandals scraped and shredded
in shedding skins am I torn or reborn?
I can't lift my head to see the horizon-
I'm bound at the foot of the Dragon,
slayed by the tongue of my underbelly
I'm engulfed, convulsing and heaving
I can't sip in blood stained air!
I'm motionless in the mire, seared
inside the incineration-
My affliction stains the clouds...
The pastel clouds,
Passing... Passing... Passing...
Passing.
Me.
By-
- J. Circosta, Tiny Poet, 2016
Pastel clouds,
hang over sadness
like night,
draws black satin curtains
over absent-minded eyes.
Darkness drips,
Collapses Star
bold and black bottomless chasm
dragging dirt and debris of past-
lifeless haze hangs heavily
overhead pressures plummet-
She sinks,
into rain filled with pain
She steeps,
deeper into blood shamed marrow,
she spoils inside rotten,
staggering through the storm-
Alone
She bleeds stone through cracks
in cold hearts; her roots shaken,
she's stirred, undernourished,
depleted, sick dried up and calloused
in the belly of Venus.
Her shape,
full round purple planet
held at the base of my lunar spine
yet, the wreckage remains blurred-
How does the universe implode?
Explode!
yet I can still hear grief-stricken screams
petrified, calcified inside the bones of ribs-
Skeleton dribbles and drains,
scandals scraped and shredded
in shedding skins am I torn or reborn?
I can't lift my head to see the horizon-
I'm bound at the foot of the Dragon,
slayed by the tongue of my underbelly
I'm engulfed, convulsing and heaving
I can't sip in blood stained air!
I'm motionless in the mire, seared
inside the incineration-
My affliction stains the clouds...
The pastel clouds,
Passing... Passing... Passing...
Passing.
Me.
By-
- J. Circosta, Tiny Poet, 2016
