• Saccharine

    Your words beget sense
    Saturated with misbelief
    Mischief, dead like the scion’s eyes
    Carded through cesspools, I wonder

    Candidly you speak to me, as if I’m nothing
    No one – and it’s true; I’m not a thing, not here
    Passively holding a scene, triggered by greed
    Nothing more.

    Present with the fog that keeps me hidden
    Thorns around my neck to keep me complacent
    Ankles shackled to the lone tree in the barren field
    Shade aborted by the sun’s stinging rays

    Nostalgia sauntering, its gait stunning and steady
    A melancholic feeling pushing from against its barrier deep inside
    Abhorrence wrapping around my waist and ripping away my pride
    Glee flitting against my features, along my fingertips, shadowed with doubt

    With hushed breaths, I’m dehydrated – out of my mind
    All for my dear brother, I drink in the mentally sublime
    Bathing in the laughter I hear trilling through my ears
    Distant, but constant, as my mother puppeteers

    Sleeping on pillows as my memories stir within
    Reveling in the softness against my head, pense à vous
    As I cradle death, familiarity drifting away, your words linger
    Cossetting a twisted fantasy, oh how sweet