In ivory white gashes.
In blood-stained floors.
In empty eyes.
In street-side whores.
In gleaming silver,
a pistol or blade.
In selling your soul
and love turned to hate.
In dangling nooses.
In murders of passion.
In charcoal-painted masks,
In suicide high-fashion.
In abandoned needles.
In a grams worth of coke.
In the bottom of the bottle,
Or a tantalizing toke.
In black, torn jeans,
In high thigh skirts.
In bleeding-hearts,
cloaked in see-through shirts.
In drowing, depriving tears.
In manic emotion.
In unexplained fear
And deadly devotion.
*
*
This is where I find beauty,
Where death finds me.
Thank you so much Arthur
. I’m glad it’s not too bad – it’s not the kind of style I usually gravitate towards
The beauty of the other side of this life. The one many despise, the one that brings discomfort but the again everything has something that attracts, that beautifies the perception on this world overall. Fluent and amazing work.