The Fog of the Marshes (This Dream I had in Hell)

 

As I walk through the Fog of the Marshes of Life

I fear for the good hearted

That they might encounter

My Wordy Wraith

Who speaks in moist prophecies

And

Forever falling fortunes:

Autumn leaves are just shades of the colors of dying

Hell is muddy cacophony and I am the wettest of chords

The Terrible cleft of my discerning palette

The lilies of cold lipstick kisses upon your Third nipple

Blue and raised

 

In this Dream: words are scars that speak

In this Dream: I am tattooed with the letters of Hell

 

Coleman Bomar