Bedridden Bedlam

Incandescence of the typical,
I’ll just sleep alone
Tonight. Again.

Philanderer ignores my call,
I’ll reap what I sow
Tonight. Again.

I can’t shake a whore tree
And expect an angel to fall out.
It’s daubed in permafrost,
Got the flu when innocence lost.
Not even bedridden bedlam
Knows where it could be found.

So I’ll just sleep alone,
I’ll reap what I sow
Tonight. Again.

Prior To The Holy Rite

Cool wind sways
Through an opportunity,
Silence shrieks the truth,
A sigh melts my lips’ curvature,
Abrupt escape
From trauma’s precipice,
Safe return from a nightmare deferred,
Darkest before
The penultimate interim to Him

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