Theme Park at its Darkest

I woke beneath a wringing sheet last night

To phantom figures cast on midnight screens

They rose in opalescent sheets of light

Their trains were wet with rot from loathsome dreams

Morbid lights crept over the planes of flesh

That spun across those shifting, spectral screens

Sharp white incisors rhymed with stark white eyes

As invective rose like bile behind my teeth

Hopes and promises turned to screams and cries

Violence sticky with the shame beneath  

Powerless I lay to efface those shades

Of lust and hate, and fear, and love, and grief

Sunrise finds me bound with the shameful tie

That I can neither break nor can deny.

This entry was posted on June 8, 2020 at 4:46 am and is filed under poetry, sonnet with tags sonnet. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.