Jon Doe - Assonance breathes

Bloody Contempt’s aspiration
Does as no feeding of a breed
To bleed oneself, to and from
The weary lives and lies of breathing
Oh, and of the brass shine,
Those remain with this corset past
With pointless assonance like fire
And you’re whole without a mass
All knowing Burn is my slow seam
And split your ivory into the skinned leaves
To cover us charred as a collection
Of memories from the weeping trees
So come forth Quantities of me,
Residual and of my dead degrees
As we in Cacophony’s world
Have within our descendents breezed

Jon Doe

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