The Way I See It
written by: Godfrey Holy
our hell has found
a voice
we are cleaning
yesterday’s
promises with
a hose of fire
and why weep over
spilt lies?
these cold breaths
in empty caskets,
these deaths we’ve
always lived
here we dress the devil
in Sunday best
we let him roam free
in the tempest,
unseen, unheard just
like our
raging regrets
we’ve had the most
beautiful of
sorrows,
who will garnish them
now?
keep fragrant the
aroma of despair
over seared life,
these naked aches of
bone and mind,
these neverending
elegy of loss
and lore
must now flee
into the naked night
like a prodigal bat
we are not hunters
anymore,
we’ve lost our
rifles to the horror
of truth
we are the hunted
followed by dreams
discarded at dawn
we run from
ourselves, terrified
of our own antlers
we lost the ending
when we couldn’t
agree on a beginning
tilling barren
land at midnight,
sweet nothings that
flooded where
they should have
Irrigated
- Anatomy of Sadness - July 29, 2024
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- With Wine and Coffee - February 27, 2024
