Judge no more

Oldie but goldie, Poetry

Nicotine lust
& morphine thirst
Singe my wings,
Gore my gut,
& skewer my spirit.
The mace of the hours
Bludgeons my mind
With the words
Of a gentle soul
As it writhes, trembles,
Wretches out names,
Places, moments, things,
Dreams, memories of things
That weren’t meant to happen.
As my glazed eyes stare, only.
Judge no more
All that bleeds for no good
Because of no good,
Under the sun,
Or the moon,
Or neither;
Gods of pagan wisdom
Will that I be chained
To that poor soul.
& be.
I bleed.
Judge no more.
For I bleed.



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