Friday, November 10, 2006

Goth poetry, in relation to Raisins.

Torpid darkness engulfs my blackened soul
Raisin-like my despair squirms and gutters in the cold
Night
Slicing it’s purple wrinkled skin
Sunripe
Sunripe
Sunripe
Once I was a grape.

MY PAIN SQUISHES WITH A MILLION BLADES.


X



The frozen fire of rain falls, raisin-like upon my dark veil of sadness
Wrinkling my dark dark soul, a raisin in putrefied desert heat
Playing Motown songs at Christmas
But
Only
The
Sad
Ones.
I heard it through the (g)rapevine.

2 Comments:

Blogger Matt X said...

Pretty good. Needs more mentions
of the word raisin.

10:13 PM  
Blogger Ilana said...

That's pretty hilarious. Made me cry.

8:20 PM  

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