Member-only story
Seeking poetry where it does not exist,
in cold dark rooms where the flowers never bloom.
For, here, these walls never see the sunlight.
They do not seek sensuality.
They desire to satisfy the raw carnal urges,
no need for romantic seduction,
wasted distractions.
No need to touch the cold emulsion of desires,
to see the light gleam in the eyes.
All they seek is to drown out the pain of existence,
nothing left to the imagination.
All they want to hear is the bass pulverizing the brain, and
feel the hard winter rain falling,
listen to metal grinding against granite, the wreaking ball crashing against walls.
Until the release, so that they can feel the silence and erase themselves.
