Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Perdre

Rest is like death I'm led to think
As fast and painless and soft as a wink
Trapped behind my eyelids in infinite black
With things I must long for but ever lack
I'm weary of prayer, of searching, of needing
I'm sick of the failures of my everlasting being
If nothing comes quick or easy or free
Then I'll sleep better knowing death lusts for me
My dark angel draws close, spreads wide her wings
Bearing witness of the longing inside temporal things
But fate for humans is brief and small
The sting lingers so close and in the minds of all
I do not fear you, death, I speak directly to thee 
All I wanted was you to at last choose me




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