🔵 By Phillip Williamson. Photo by lauragrafie.
Sampradaya sutra of my heart
Feel my ashery
Dear diary
I tip the diadem of my odium
That’s been passed to me
While it’s warring with
His starry canopy
Creating thorny vine livin‘ lives
With the beauty of a rose pedal mind
That captures me
Like the French masters of the Bordeaux
Trapped back in my cell with no rapture
Painting scars with the war paint of my pain
While I hold the silent screams of these jaded bars
Spawning seeds of devilery
Tellin‘ me I’ll never be close to being free
I’m the wick entirely
Burning fiery
Dear diary
Hod my secrets till the day CDC expires me
That’s the day our ties are truly free
Feel my mastery as the spliff is passed to me
Where it’s all ash to me
Dear diary
This my ashery