Sunrise, sunset

Sun rises, Sunset

sunrise, Sunset
wherever you go.
It becomes a shrill hope
outgrowing among the sourly
depicted prospects of our reality.

Sun rises, dust falls
over the Vampire glaive.
The Vampiress fills her heart with
delight, just swimming into the bloody, bloodlessness--
stains of written words she vindicates.

She opens a pale, shrilled colored doorway
and collides her recently divided brown hair that blended blond, and white hair strands at its peak
into the spirals of Nocturna.
Obelisk the Tormentor is her query...and begotten soul? Her Jupiter.

No one feeds her mouth, but she provides her words. Silent lambs gaze over her.
She is warranted in Death, justified in life.