The veil of night, the vile of poison
forever triumphing over the sun.
The pouring rain, the dim streetlights
My skin & my sins,
come undone
The liquid of Dionysus paints
the transience of our nights,
the beauty in the blackness,
the scene of our demise.
((this is not an antithesis
to our chaotic existence))
5 a.m., my shoulders shiver-
a soliloquy
rolls off of my t r e m b l i n g lips.
My skin is cold,
showing my bones.
My lungs are filled
with fatal, deadly smoke.
In these moments,
in these nights,
our greatest pleasures
& our final demise
I find my scarred heart
laughing under obsidian skies.
My dear,
we are all
living in the ruins of irony.
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