Do Not Want To Turn.

DO  NOT  WANT TO  TURN.



                  I do not want to turn again
Where oft I have trodden in some days
When the sounds of my footprints imprints 
Crimson blood stained mouths of memories.

Purple trafficking in the humdrum streets
Where nothingness enforces reinacted designs
Tongues burnt by heats of scorpioned flame
Among florid furies of the beleaguered nights.

What has come over me in the dew of dawn
Scorched hands plucking at the blistered eyes
Golds of harvest now stored in shadowy deep
In frigate of serpents steeped of the venom kind.

I do not want to turn again
Seeking out the comforts of hope or sleep
In some vacant spaces of the charnelled fields
Where dazed desires suspend in vagrant deeds.

Tags: deep,