The Death Of Me

CARNINE-DOVES

Doves fall

From the firmament

Hematic eyes

Staining

Angelic vestments

Can I be saved

Once trodden?

*

I rescind

This masquerade

When the threads

Of pretension

Are too frayed

To conceal the heart

On which they feast

*

I disown the self

Rising petulant from

A dystopian mindscape

With whose delusions

Do I consort?

*

My bones

Are too heavy

My lying flesh

Too loose to gather

An angular womb

Suffocates truth

Whose

Chalk-drawn smile

Do I lament?

The death of Caricature

Or Singularity?

This is about the fear of self and paradoxically disguise, the struggle with identity and finding the balance between truth and drama. My writing is still suffering from the lack of thought cohesion. I can’t even say I am uninspired because I feel like there are ideas knocking around I just can’t catch on to any of them!