Second poem. Really wish I'd remembered to write this sooner... ( I feel it reeks of being worked on too late for its due date. Opinions?)
On a journey through the nightmarescapes of a daydream. From this seat within this room, to fly out in contempt of the laws of sanity, morality. Gravity. Physics.
The sky bleeds red, a mighty furnace above the grass so green and lively -- fed and fattened on the corpses of our past. Corpses who once reached for the flames of Sol.
The burning sky's oppressive clouds ooze black blood: nourishment for the trees who writhe in agony, tearing at one another and moaning the diseased heartwood within.
On wings of pestilence and plague we shall fly. In search of that which soothes.
We will never find.
When the trees strike and through closed eyes you see: sinew and bone, they strike for thee. Muscles ripple and bark splinters as your innards they seek.
Your wings they shall break.
And down will you fall, striking sharply the charnel ground, and sinking within.
Until Death takes us.