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.

Lonely.

lonely, born in the ecstasy this root of blood; walk away into the forbidden, unmade road split and wounded, eternally with revived memory, the stranger of winter shadows into the dark planetary motion, the insanity picked from flowers will too go on as we walk away. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Eyes.

Solitude arrayed in language  unnoticed in its death, as the leaves survive  the siege of winter, taloned with wounds rejoicing in the wind. In my dreams, there is silence as the flowers die through our eyes; whispers held, empty, beneath our feet of the grey stone, leave a rock  after death they exist unlike flowers… Read More Eyes.

Tyranny.

tyranny  blinded by the ghost of an isthmus, dark eyes fed upon your laugh like a poison  to surge, the chill  when you look at me; the dust of the horizon shapes cruelty. Reaped in the quiet like a violent beast as solitude precedes covering the ashes blistering on the pale shore this void of… Read More Tyranny.

Deadzone.

A/N: Another piece I wrote for an instrumental I created on Soundcloud. Check it out here. Early blooms rise at six axed in pale winter, a tumor of silence; in the white blossoms, fresh snow falls the night paradise lost into the womb and raid of memory, forgotten in the mist  we entreat. A temporal… Read More Deadzone.

City.

you’ll always be alone in the city; gone, the final breath in the icy mouths the secret of a lover, in the absence of morning and the affinity of dark at night; a fucked up dream stares left in its presence in the old city lights, warmer than the protestation that rebels against animal bones… Read More City.

You or I.

lament in autumn grief, a shadow of a touch leafing as bones; empty windows and shops, isolation of sense when there is none left for you or I, for you or I as the river leaves in the wind it is a paradox in the cold. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Skeletons.

illustrated in millenniums where our scars fall, while silence deranges sanctity in the deep spines and limbs of animals I can almost remember; the landscape fire sleeps lingering in a land from god, watching often on the shore as we become held to the distant sacrifice  of the memory; as the ocean is pierced with… Read More Skeletons.

Acedia.

One memory death has fallen like the decayed fruit; the shores have frozen, and our bones are shivering dark-blue; a shadowy world with beauty as it faded there is no promise under the oak tree nor the wilderness of the flowers nor the maples on lashed dead rocks there is no promise for me or… Read More Acedia.

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.