Sea of Thorns
Adam Perry
In a sea of thorns - incompetent death and a scratching fever keep me waiting.
The minds wretched minds are held back accordingly - gone.
The meadow of bleeding boys erupts - a parking lot fresh and female.
Snakes feeding on the complacency of youth - complex and unknowingly considerate.
It is the end of retaliation - a buzzing from soulful hearts too big and too weak to give in.
“Sweet as a strawberry” to be polite - and the breaking is all blood and gore.
A year of passion and cold concrete heroism - fall back inebriated and then spit in sour sewage.
Just give me a quick death, all I ask - I’m yours and then sleep softly.
Staring out in the shadows - try to kick in full for once, then sneak out into rain and light of night.
Who is that beautiful woman outside my window? “Fresh as a strawberry.”
Now my chest is even more painful, shivering.
In a sea of thorns and ripped, burnt pages - shattered dreams - and I can’t have any of it back.
