Colour Me Cold

what are we if not energy infinite
cosmic creations of the bold, and illiterate
liberated daily by the voices of the mind
by the choices we make
and the loves that we bind
colour me old for the hour is late
in the year, in the month
in a second i will lunge
at the breath of a stranger
for sending me fear
for lending me a problem with himself
and his dear
he hath no ledger in which to write reason
in which he confides
for intergalactic treason
the blood of the rain runs deeply today
swiftly in vein
swiftly we sway
the fall is quite tempting when we linger
in red
in the moment we thrive
through the thickening thread
through the calamity and icicle song
the noise that they make when they hit
‘come along’
to death by decomposition
and drugged in this condition
the fate we find inconsequential
when all we get is superficial
material means for the gods to undermine
our heritage and lust in sweet decline
in sweet succubi we trust to ride
to lift us up when the ground has died
the daemon come when we have no other
way to pay
the piper’s mother
the pauper sprung up to defend
and lost a limb in defense of the shed
a place where we hide our young
our weak and bold
the old they die
they wither away in a blackened fold
fraught with perils in our time
they have fought the war of wine
the truth be told in vino vanity
while drugged with blood i came to clarity
to see the start that never was
the end begun or lack thereof
luster broken from my shield
from the metals rock would yield
no more armour for the earth
the war is over, at my birth
generations lost in burning spasm
ache and suffer all the worth
all the sunlit moons and sky
tear from them an ancient eye
look upon thy works and weep
you killed the world and all the sheep
the empty nests they wither deep
and Gaea drowns within the creek


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