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Violet Velvet Lips

Down in the hall, and a little to the left
Is a person who can see and smell and hear too well
And though you'd not believe it
And although you can't concieve it
I can tell you here and now that he is well quite close to a hell

Hah!

But the jinx on the ceiling is dripping to the floor
Only but three and sixths feet away
You can talk and you can whisper
All the gossip, sharp and crisper
But the saddest thing that you will find today...

Is...

He Is Free!
He Is Free!
He Is Free from all the sorrow

He can take and he can borrow but the thing that he'll regret
(Likely not forget)
Is that the truth, as you can see, is he is Free!

Fingers glisten on the drapes, which beckon light of drink and grapes
Illusions of a better place
But shocked and hidden from the face
The silhouetted martyr sits so lonely in her grace
While in the main room and the foyer with the dancing, swoons and dips
He-Sees-And-Smells-And-Hears-Too-Well is tasting violet velvet lips
And though you may believe it
Thinking you just might decieve it
Into making quite pretend that all this fantasy was waning

But I warn you, step no closer
He-Sees-And-Smells-And-Hears-Too-Well has had some luck to find his closure
In the room of blackest carpet, blackest walls, blackest ambrosia
As he tastes of velvet lips, his mind and body's grasping slips

So in the blackest black of room
Tastes the lips to seal his doom
The blackest closing to the darkness well precedes his waking eye
Suddenly, his taste and smell and touch are without partner tie
The violet velvet lips are gone
The man alone lays down to die

Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 482 times
Written on 2007-03-08 at 03:17