literature

Coma

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BloodStainAffiliate's avatar
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Literature Text

I sleep on cobblestone carpets that creak beneath my weary feet, and drown myself in deepest shades of ochre and scarlet when the tide is high. I hold hands with ancient ideologies and cling to what was once beautiful as it tears and unfolds into scarred fingertips. Bruised flesh and beaten petals lie side by side in the cemetary of the soul, and the symposium of the wicked continues above them, forever haunting the flawed.
Just some spoken word, for a change. A few thoughts I was just having.
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londonrey's avatar
I love the first line. The imagery you use in this is stunning! :heart: