Old Wrath

Wrinkled dried face, you charge down old stairs not what

I expected you, lunged my frantic cold knife.

Wild eyes turn to wells as aged bright stars stare back,

Heart shattered visage glides bumbling- mirage.

Please go do some gardening. Your flowers are

Sick without you. I miss you. Dream spoilt. Crooked,

Half-hearted direful springs gulp full of green youth,

Seedlings blight your wrathful name as petals grow.

The flowers you grew colourless now bloom bright,

They miss grey! True blue is cold- burdened purple,

Feel the life drink backward clutching an endless

Night you downed tools without final reconcile

Or friend too blinded from drugs designed for life

Now staring beyond a time stained bitter fire

Stained images caught and thrust through empty dark

Tortured fear stricken blood wincing agony fuck.

Fate lamenting sharp flashing tortured picture,

Lying motionless. Bleeding internally.