Benjamin Rome Clarke Poems

Infernos left are ghouls of fiery brine.
When snorting smoke they trample underfoot
The long and short of all I know is mine,
And yet they've seen not what their torture took.
...

The one that hurts me
Who inflicts me with how much I love him
He fell from the chapel roof
When I found out I lamented
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Corrupt me.
Pure milk, red venom.
Petal, wrench.
Feather, pluck.
...

These poisoned eyes are wanting sleep
And wanting sights to hold.
They're wanting love and wanting peace
No matter what they're told.
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In the light of all known and passed,
The night is yet dark.
Once embraced, a disposition births wonder.
Had I, were I, had I of other persuasions been,
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I appeal to you,
No more, no more.
And yet you reply,
More! Oh, more's to come!
...