Awake (Draft).

In an age

                        of watching…

            through a mind suffice

                        in icy tombs;

What word through our own,

            to have finally sought

                        the black star

            that was the world we lived

                        sleepless.

And, awake.

                        Drifting… Silence bare

                                    on the dark mid-sea.

                                                The peony masking light

                                    there are only wishes or velleities

The sound of wind

            in half-streets

                        running around in empty roads

                                    and abandoned

                                                overripe in its practice,

                                                                        abandon

                                                                        abandon                       Disinherited

                                    dark mind

                                                walks alone

                                                you have nowhere else to go

                                    beyond dark shores,

                                                there’s a fog that blooms;

                                                you can’t go back

                                                            you can’t go back.

You can’t go back

                        killed by sense

                                    and nothing more

                        in your sleepless dream

                                    from the solitude of fog

                                                laying cold by the harbor

            our bones in the autumn

                        flowers at spring

                                    cadaverous winter

                                                it felt like years, not months,

                                                            not days.

You can’t go back.

            You can’t go back.

                        And, awake.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.



Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

13 replies

  1. the past does always cast shadows tho

    Liked by 3 people

  2. WOW…I’m otherwise speechless.

    Liked by 1 person

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