01-14-2018, 05:39 PM
chocolate rabbits
easter is approaching
time to repeat the passion
rewind the miracle of torture
the sacred sacrifice still burns within the book
heavenly eternity emits a soothing light
through pages, even closed.
it is the brilliant hope to vanquish guilt,
the ultimate reward for savagery.
these words
need melting down
to something that i understand
and that is friendly to digest.
cute little bunnies, pressed,
still fail to lay the promised eggs -
they´re ready for the slaughter,
to do their parts within the drama
and leave traces of this blood,
so sweet and innocent,
as they are kissed and cherished
by traumatic mouths.
non-newtonian liquid
you form a wall,
the consistency of cornstarch
in a bowl of water.
this liquid´s a peculiar suspension
of molecules remaining mysteries
and provides oblivion
for miseries.
you are a smooth plane.
i stare into this blinded mirror
and cannot force you out of there.
some wicked law of physics
makes you able to resist
my wrenching and my pressure
in equally stubborn measure.
this is a spastic dance
of crazy microscopic harmony,
it leaves no wounds to see, no trace.
not even a reflection would reveal
those memories, stored in the water
and their substance, that is slaughtered.
then i desist, humiliated once again
for all my shattering foolish questions.
i turn away, ashamed
to find i am submerging
and surrounded all along
by infinite and timeless white,
to re-discover it is yours and mine
and feel your silky, savage grip,
within this heavenly confounding flow,
the sacred drowning.
easter is approaching
time to repeat the passion
rewind the miracle of torture
the sacred sacrifice still burns within the book
heavenly eternity emits a soothing light
through pages, even closed.
it is the brilliant hope to vanquish guilt,
the ultimate reward for savagery.
these words
need melting down
to something that i understand
and that is friendly to digest.
cute little bunnies, pressed,
still fail to lay the promised eggs -
they´re ready for the slaughter,
to do their parts within the drama
and leave traces of this blood,
so sweet and innocent,
as they are kissed and cherished
by traumatic mouths.
non-newtonian liquid
you form a wall,
the consistency of cornstarch
in a bowl of water.
this liquid´s a peculiar suspension
of molecules remaining mysteries
and provides oblivion
for miseries.
you are a smooth plane.
i stare into this blinded mirror
and cannot force you out of there.
some wicked law of physics
makes you able to resist
my wrenching and my pressure
in equally stubborn measure.
this is a spastic dance
of crazy microscopic harmony,
it leaves no wounds to see, no trace.
not even a reflection would reveal
those memories, stored in the water
and their substance, that is slaughtered.
then i desist, humiliated once again
for all my shattering foolish questions.
i turn away, ashamed
to find i am submerging
and surrounded all along
by infinite and timeless white,
to re-discover it is yours and mine
and feel your silky, savage grip,
within this heavenly confounding flow,
the sacred drowning.
...