friend
I am blind
a drunkard
wanton & brilliant
a child of melancholy will & ferocious discontent
perhaps a broken peasant
never translucent but at peace
willing to embrace this delicious poison & melt into idle death
too soon to trust this perilous mercy
and question every sacred measure
man, women; in eternity
a wicked prisoner with naught a worry or fortune
for yesterday is a lie
art seemingly free of change and decay
desire born of a lover's joy
a life never full of torment
you see, we wear our vehemence
your slander
on my bone like a fever drunk with rot
listen to the mortal farewell those in poetry upon the breeze
for merry are the foul
cut from envy once young in love