Friday, January 12, 2018
My Weakness Is My Week In Time
My Monday is the day of the sequins and diamonds,
My Tuesday accuses me of accosting the devilish men.
Since the dawn of time, I have lived every night like the day,
But these are the civilisations of my profession called manhood.
My Saturday is blessed to the occult factor, one night is one day,
Let Sunday bicker and bend the straight continuation of this life.
If you are Death then let every day be a blooming flower,
For then Life shall climb and overtake to resurrect the only soul.
Once the Friday dissolves in the fires of a heavenly rest, we climb
And clamour for distressed people of an arduous nature, to change
And forgive, forget and dissolve into a thousand atoms, the words of
A life that abrades the next life, one of the actual acts of our joy.
Topic(s) of this poem: weakness,illness,weakening