Velvet thorns

The eerie God
Fulgent dust the prelude of the drowning sun
Bloodstained sculptures across amorphous reliefs
The angelic blaze ancient their silent choirs
Torn apart the pure aorta of apathy

Dissolution of gentle seas, the lost brilliance
Hateshaped the billow of thorns
How should I enthrone my pain

I have no more tears that
embrace my pure parfum
seduced my by mournful gale
the blood will never return

I have no more weeps that
caress the stoned heart
at one with a mournful tear

Artesian well the aphorism in it is deep
Aura of aghast bane the disburden of azure
Diurnal sleep the eerie bloodstained God