Dig up your broken bones from plantations that walk the nightScarcely believing their own eyes, they watch, swaying delicately, waiting for the time to oppress. Still, words carry a greater interpretation than this consciousness.

Bring your tongue to give to regret Such a nice gift for sincerity, since aimless fear didn't suffice the apology to the monster who roams these groves. You can feel it closer, almost breathing down your neck, whispering, "Evangelism is on the brink of destruction"

Good. That's one less thing to systematize.

You can't help but know that they'll lacerate your muscle and you'll scream with hesitancy. It's thin fibers will weave elegant tapestries that will grace the walls of kingdoms. The intricate needlework will tiptoe through the fabric as it tells its story. Taking its time to strengthen every detail. Your body will create this beautiful metamorphosis. And you pray that God sees your travail and will consecrate you with the strength to endure. The days symbolize the holy spirit as you strain to reach Mount Athos to stammer through your hymn.

It still hovers and compresses in the time predestined before the Gods. Yet its certain in your mind, and is resolved.

Notwithstanding, the soliloquy still repeats through the shuffle And the putrid smell of nostalgia huddles close to you magnifying the breakdown. But the screens you hold up reassure and solve. And as you place them to your faces, peace will descend and brace you this epoch.

PersonalMerek DavisPoetry