Delirium

Here we are just the splotches

on a canvas cloaked in scorn;

“the howl of depression”.

A sentence scarred in our sorrow,

shadows on the morn, a silent oppression.

Upon the keys a chord is struck. Come the cries

whilst the solemn soliloquize

and carry their burden.

Windswept, the poppy groves - rain mars the orchard.

Carried in memories as our minds flee from the torture.

 

Shall we wander the river

‘neath a specter-laden glade

or slip into madness?

Ensnared in a nightmare

atop the glacial blade soaking with malice.

Upon the seas a ship is sunk. Come the cries

whilst the solemn soliloquize

and muster an answer.

Hear echoes of delirium sewn in schizoid babel.

Surrender to despondency as broken promises unravel.

 

Here we are just the moments

in a period of hate;

our spirit forgotten.

Crawling for the glimpses

of a solitary state; a sadness begotten.

Upon the breeze a word sets sail. Come the cries

whilst the solemn soliloquize

and sear their feelings.

Flame curls in the cosmos pit as Atlas stumbles.

Strike the pillars of reality and watch as being crumbles.

Windswept, the poppy groves - rain mars the orchard.

Carried in memories as our minds flee from the torture.

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

Enjoyed that at the get-go we are likened to splotches on an easel canvas and the shifting of images, as of chords struck on a keyboard and flowers dancing in the wind, shipwrecks and Atlas having a spill... o the thrill... did the world just lurch and roll downhill? Here's hoping to have successfully fled the torture. Thanks for sharing. /Frederick.