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Nirvana

Winds of Dune

Copyright, Nirvana

Alone in my corner I must sit
Awaiting that blood to drip
Those drops encased with foil
Brimming with all the shit continuing to toil
So cold, my veins they rust
Dunes of wind rinsing away that dust
It comes from my eyes they blink
A lesson foretold
Come, it’s my tears you drink
They are blood, another flame to smold
Tales from within I try to tell
Letting them drip, watching the flesh rip, and letting their paths swell
Newly carved roads a sign to nowhere
Another chance to stop and stare
Torment me with your own eyes
Destined to blink away those fears and lies
Completed was my deed to one
One must believe that death will be fun

Luxuria

Copyright, Nirvana

Initial Pain

Screaming for an escape
Contemplating her fall
As her soul takes shape

Aflamed Rain

Ceasing to stop
Eraser form wound
Her mind a novelty shop
Scars deemed on her arm strewn

Renamed Insane

The heart inside of her expired
The world around a vortex
The mind inside her a pneumatic tyre
Reborn a semblance inside her, a pleasured hex

Pathologic Bane

The weight of her parasites ascendance
Convulsing in every vein
The cosmos she but only occupied in evanescence
Her life a parabola on a coordinate plane

Acid Disdain

A distant long for a cleanse
Searching for a way to dispense
A path to tend
My pain screeching in my joints
A blade, my brush
My flesh its canvas
Blank Verse to my parasite
Blackboard and crimson chalk, sans eraser
Sans renewal, sans regret, sans pain, sans thought
Sans oblivion
Down my leg it zigged
Cross my chest it zagged
Through my wrists
Left my calf
Circumspect my mid
Right my back
Up my soul
Endointestinal
Entoderm
Rapid Rivers, Canyons at the light
Flagged me in my Tarred Comas
Knuckles locking and forcing “me” to stop
“My” self. a retired a festered blain
A new being with an opening
A masterpiece to claim?
Now feeding off my lust
Refused another movement of the brush
Yet a chef-d’oeuvre
This is my luxuria

 

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