Old poem in English

Deviant thorns' appetites

I wondered which would miss me

when the collision came

of what is seen

somewhere in between

throw the words

of dreams that have passed

as a destructive spree

of bloodiness

who will filter pieces of some

so called me

in a fleshy mess

of acceptable and pestilent glee

with pricking knives

who have penetrated deeper

into gray psyche

_______________________________

19th September 2012

at 2:45 am