top of page
Writer's pictureDarkling Thrushes

The Vow

We will make of your heart a grave and crib, 

For my sorrows and joys of rotting in bed, 

And my venturing spirit on the streets, 

The only home it’s known until now. 

 

And the colors of the rainbow will spring, 

To life in me, like Renaissance paintings. 

Today, then I will go down to the tracks, 

Hemmed in by barbed wire and get a hot-dog. 

 

I can munch on it as I consider, 

The death of stars the greatest tragedy, 

Or nebula of blue, that bow their heads. 

Blackholes, that we do not know are wormholes.


It's something to resist, ‘The Tragic End.’ 

In the secrecy of an angel’s heart.

21 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

The Pigs' End

It’s more profitable to go to Hell  With full knowledge of this single pig’s pain,  And the gas-chamber that he learned at last,  That...

Trump-card

I'll gut you like fish you fuckin’ maggots,  The toaster is warm and getting warmer.  I refilled the ketchup-bottle twice,  Looking for a...

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page