photo by Rafael Feroli (unsplash)
To the blind we must feel so wild
Running through the fires for the thrill,
We must be so nauseating
We’ve built cradles and thrones
With all the muscles melting,
and all those broken bones.
The fading spirits escape the night
The bonfires charring the riverbanks
Leaving the grass to be tart and ash.
The thundering in distances,
Are not for our freedom
It is more of a call,
to the death of it.
We can only hunt for the hearts for so long.
The hearts are the monsters.
And defiant to love,
And the blood swims in jealousies
To be blessed by adventure,
To be cursed by the threatening
And we are talking about all the beauties.
The supreme and goodbyes in the rain
Erect lightning rips apart our skeletons
When the fires became a broiler
our motion is muted
Vision now evades us.