“My Symphony of Angelical Pain” by Benyin.

Then, was enslaved in your sheathin a bosom of appearing angelic roars;hosting daringly with perfectlygroomed verses, ofyour patterns of inflictionsUnfold me; mold me!I am available for yourdesiring wraths.Untame me, hold me,I am yearning whollyto see your demogorgonsSuspended in waves I shook my petalsbrightly fair to raid your waging pedalsConsole my hungerto behold in your slumberConsole… Read More “My Symphony of Angelical Pain” by Benyin.

Flowers for you.

flowers for you bursting like a ghost; red and white violets that were in a market shop your eyes hunted them and they were yours; as the street calls out in loneliness the telephone replays with your voice engraved in a blue marble vase by the sea gone. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Ocean.

dreams in the Sahara insanity in the flamenco acedia, I linger in the ocean floor, stripped in fertile silence as frost knows death better than I. the typhoon, the sailor it festers the dying beast of the albatross and the ocean sea. she’ll kiss the divine blue waves with fury, summoning the wind’s womb; in… Read More Ocean.

Exist.

nude into the enraptured  forbidden sea, behalf the whisper, its madness in autumn at its wake, unknown into the burial of yellow roses, in the tears of ghostly sands, tossing from forgotten sea light silhouetted against torn anamnesis these shadows of our time, in etiolated remembrance, our memories are hidden. the sanctity of blood that… Read More Exist.

Modernities.

isolate the modernities  carnations touch the wind, mocking them, like a cigarette in the abandoned sunlight, the entropy, monstering god-like shores fragmenting ends of the mind, traversing the watery rock for the sea, the mouth left behind from the cave, teeming with blood; the mountain defines the reflection in your eyes, where have you been?… Read More Modernities.

The last thought.

Rocks lay before             the last thought and solipsism; Inside a frost stillness, decaying by the tree; Forbidden—the serpent’s blood betrays             the bone fingers that lay upon stone.                                     Feral. What happened?                                                 Illusory dreams                                                 are mere being.                                                             Devising a relent                                                                         to emerge outside                                                             to the city, deprived of… Read More The last thought.

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… Read More Awake (Draft).

Amnesiac.

Of the April wind                         the distant perdu                         world, persists with                                     the evening sea shore conducts in sleep             the phase of light.                         There is no sun. There are no wings                                     in the abyss                                                 with black fruit,                                                             beautified in the sacrificial                                                             breath. Fall, fall.                                                 Amnesiac in the… Read More Amnesiac.