athazagoraphobia

on this night
the skies will open
cliffs will crumble
to the seas.
his voice
will sound like
the spoken word of God
and Ayngel's will
sing no more.
Be gone:
Dear, God
This Greek tragedy
has run dry in players.
blood turned to dust
we can spare
not a soul
nor spine
to mourn.
'06....its been awhile since i've written...bad night, poem to finish. ---Darkayngel

my pin up girl