Dissenter (Pol)

Dead Author

Dissenter (Pol)


Sleeping nightmares 
Sleeping dreams 
I'm going on blasphemy way 
My enormous desires 
My only one destiny 

Dull smell of perspiration 
Makes awake from the dead 
By strange sight 
I need to differentiate the shapes 

The blood flows down the edge 
Like a deadauthor 
I feel the bowels on my hands 
A poet of dead words 

I'll rise up my head 
I'll feel life full power 
Which flows slowly 
It's my thorn in his crown 

I'm hiding in darkness 
Alone in an abyss of pain 
Broken by the nails of fear 
I curse my creator 

The blood flows down the edge 
Like an eternal fire 
I create the fear by my face 
A sculptor of dead bodies