Sunday, May 15, 2011


The plethora of reasons she can give thee
But shouldn't speak of them no sire no
The craving for forbidden fruit does not subside
As she's starting to hit a real low

Thick grey clouds of sin take over
Desire and hunger all submerge into one
The soft ripe juices of passion flow in
Aching for a touch, she's come undone

Brushes were all picked out from before you see
And the shades have also finally been chosen
The strokes are a bit subtle on the paper
As she paints her very own Saint Ambrosian

The pleasure is mostly soaked in hurt hence
Screams from the captive cells of her mind
Trapped in her own conspiracy theory tonight
She's somewhere by the bridge's bend

Obliviously struggling to find the lost solace in
Astronomical unknown noisy crowds of the city
Losing a part of her existence every minute
Wandering around like a goddamn gypsy

Her parching days come to an end ultimately
And a dash of relief eventually takes over
Pinching herself just to make sure you see
That she's finally met her real lover

Embraced in the arms of her very own stranger
With love floating around in every inch of her space
In you must I confess, I find my real Zen
So there you go Sire, I now rest my case


H said...

I havent been to your blog in so long.
But whenever I read your work it settles into the being like bubbles into water

MothSmokeLover said...

Shukriya :)