Saturday, June 16, 2012

Oblivion Games


From above, night falls. The dead wander for truth.
No claw finds purchase in veils of darkness.
No luminescence.

Drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker.
Deep hues of green and blue, of brown and grey
swim and swill away.

Draw a card, realign time in games of rhyme.
Bittersweet burning, an abyssal touch
suffices as such.

The game’s unnecessary, forgotten
by the morning light, stupefied, starving,
unfulfilled yearning.

2 comments:

  1. Your poetry is great, very witty and astute. Keep this up :).

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  2. your writing is beautiful, ben. please keep doing it. i miss all of you so much. like.. kind of like to have your writing to hang onto and remind me that things were okay once.

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