Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Blood & Cigarettes

Bloated face stares back at the morn.’
Lip split and ashen eyes
From a fight I didn’t ask for
But wanted anyways.

A living ghost known at my door
Or was it the demon
That I asked for
When I ringed myself with stars and blood.

Oak and sage feeding smoke
While the world drowns
In a sea of mindless torment
Of its own making.

Fix this mess?
Why is it always mine
To find the answer hidden in the Green
And the minds of men. 

image from Tumblr

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