Dark Ages

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A touch of my heart, is like a kiss of death. Melt until there is nothing left. Turn the pot, pour the liquor of death, Determined by determination, my quest. The fear cause a shock, difficult to digest. Eyes red, up early and late, need rest. Cause my only sleeping grounds seem to be my desk. Coffee, tea, and food, unless. Sleep was decided, usually always divided. Of it, never seem excited. As task fills up our day and mileage. *[Sleeping in class, my dreams gaining knowledge.] Prior to what exist, in the midst. Cloudy evening rain turning into mist. As you close your eyes and your life starts to drift. Sleeping with the dark ages, peacefully. Waking to many faces, blissfully . . . C . . .

Poem ‘Dark Ages’ by Steven D. Jackson  (Introducing a Great Writer – Steven D. Jackson)

Pre-order your copy before Sept. 2nd for exclusive material.
DARK AGES ENGRAVED eBook

 

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Comments
  1. […] Is this the opening poem to Steven D. Jackson’s: ‘Dark Ages Engraved’? […]

    Liked by 1 person

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