Photo By: Sosse Karasarkissian
It’s on the tip of my tongue;
The solar rays subsiding;
A flower’s bloom is subtle yet bold
We’ve been enticed beyond this threshold.
In such a game, I plea for objection
My thoughts fail to resonate
The body is the weeping of a parting soul,
Life cannot last
The objective is clear
But the heart smolders into indifferent charcoal.
The mysticism behind the eyes
A soft gaze which conceals synthesis;
Entering a secret room in the back of my mind
Emotion, intellect, the spirit;
Are not intrinsically tied,
Until after the setting where the flower unwinds.
Desire strikes, planting its roots
Keep growing, my army is gone;
A trillion cells form this person
An amazing machine which bestows much surprise
Fight my demons; they have nothing to do,
A collection of memories wait, I am certain.
A blade of ideas cuts deep into thoughts
Ephemeral experience bleeds out
With whom I haven’t met, I cannot part
Death slowly encroaches into my arms;
This flower can satisfy,
The bleeding art.
Written By: Isaac Dinotno