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Spirit Skyway, And The Scent Of Angel's Breath
by Steven Fedder
A Dead white colorless dream that bleeds
Thin within a blackened silence that screams
So still, so quaint
I sweat through the solace, a season's nightmare
The frontier of the sky, my soul burns from
Breathing the breath of lost fallen angels
Getting high
Their light no longer shines for they are
As useless as I
I will not be suppressed by the graying of the clouds
That I slowly ascend through
A barrier of cold silver mist…
I absorb the electricity, the energy
Of the burnt fallen stars, The spheres of ancient Gods
Their gasses fill my lungs with a scent of death
I float free without the power of demon clawed wings
I struggle with a heaven I cannot see
A displeasure dies
Anticipating fear, waiting for it
But dying within a simple transparent pleasure
I inhale a fallen angel's sigh a smell of gynal desire
Like a freshly finely cut (narcotic) spread on a blood
Red crystal table left calling, leaving a burning
Sensation to multiply and to divide
The empty colors inside
My hands dried to black how they move through
The clouded masses and amongst the lith of demons
But feel nothing
My tongue the sword of the serpent
Lays taste upon their female wetness
Injecting my lost birth name without saying grace
For now what am I
For now what species and I?
© Fedder, 2008
My name is Steven Fedder, and I have been writing for many years--not only as a hobby, but as a release. I am from Wisconsin where it does nothing but snow for most of the year, so my cold and dark writing style kind of fits. I am currently working on two novels as well as my love for writing random poems/verse. My influences include: Thomas Harris, Clive Barker, H.P. Lovecraft, Jeff Lindsay, Jim Morrison, and Aaron Stainthorpe amongst many others.