Overton Trees

The scent of oak breathes death into me
But filters out through the hole in my soul
Bury me in autumn leaves
My god had left me, or so it seems

Barren oak and silent soil, blackened withering artistic toil
Enveloped in my drowning narcissism
The winter's breath just behind me
The evening's low-lying fog, the amber shroud of overton

Sovereign sorrow. desperation leaks from this pen
Held dear to its warm hand
The air is burnt and sundown is a breath behind
Early, to be forever ensnared in the cold
Folly and dread, with my hatred for life and the fear of the noose
It weighs heavily on my head. overton trees, whispering introit
Sharpens the pendulum with every swing

A lachrymose line at the brushes tip
It carried me away, blurry gray vision
Press your damnation in me, singed smell of october
In a world full of deceivers, lying
Bringing in the sheaves

A sermon with an invective tongue
Hallow otiose intent, i'm the ghost of a man
I am undead, victimized to repetition
Crucified to the past, let every breath be my last
An abode of an ossuary