Inimical bitter  taste  of infectious sorrow,
Borrowed with  elegance of a charade,
Is the recipe of the dinner, I cook
Every envious nights of utter silence, eerily slow
The taste of cider belies it, pungent odour defines it
Dripping blood , patronizing thoughts quiver  together
In the melee of unattended fragments of desolate hope
Make it  excruciatingly mundane in surreptitious slime
Decadent dreams ,pernicious ingredients of hate quibble
And moments  of devouring  my essence, are the  spices to grate
Together with the chaos building inherently was to add charm,
And  the sly realm of voracious eccentricity is the dressing it required
And then, it gets cooked in the burning flames of penitence
In all its malevolence, the creepy dish of a broken soul is served
Taking all  its sweet cruel time to claw and crawl and gnaw
Through the veins and arteries and a remorseful soul
I Â DEVOUR MYSELF, everyday with the fragrance that chokes my throat,
The hours then cringe in  me, drool and increase its tightening hold,
The slow rotten flesh and its stench ..perhaps the fire of depravity wasn’t enough
Could not gyrate it  enough..swirl it enough inside me…
It burns again….the next day..!!
Beautiful poem đź’š Zilch!!
This is a superb piece!
Superb
Thanks everyone, appreciated