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Deep sleep of torment
My innocence has waned to a pinprick of subtle light
taken for granted was my ability to resist
refused a christ like day of reckoning for a simple hand in hand
iniquity released like a malformed flood of distasteful action
a set of wings so broken and dirty I can't even glide upon a wind of purity for a mere moment
my taste has settled reasonably
the acidic nagging in the back of my throat dissolved
could be I've acquired a taste for this state of being
this lonely form of breeding
a taste so impure I may have lost my face
a babies breath chilling my flesh
the shrill call of a crow at my own personal midnight
beckoning me to the ground
where I lie
still and lifelessly alive
waiting for my being to awake again
