-Madness The Mouse; Part 1, Shadows of a Gunslinger-
Madness was of many things, his cape was
black as coal,
He scrounged at bottles cast aside, sand-blasted into gold.
His eyes like fires, never seen; embers...moaning cinders...
A spine made alien from metal mending, cyber splendors.
Scars or modifications running rampant through his heart,
Computer chips & CPUs, rebooting [brain] on every start.
Failure's not an option that the factory puts in,
Or brings us to this planet; baring eager, guilty sin.
You see; Madness was a mouse that liked to tear open his caves,
Gnashing at the veins of gold, inside his rants & raves.
Yearning for his Midas, he embraced the amber dust,
The city of a broken mind; still-caverns bleeding rust.
The tumbleweeds of tureen dreams; just shivers, once attached,
To growing rampant vines, now choking victims of your past.
Strands of heat from burning sands, curvacious distant hills,
Engulfing furnaced fantasies; blazing fuel in every thrill.
Consuming ghost-like visions, nightmares; gripping, zombie hands,
Mortify the richeous, shackled-chains across the lands.
These were all the people, that had lived within the trees,
Quite like him; it's eery... can't he see they're never pleased?
So in this story, as it's said; our hero will be cast,
Into the smiles of Abyss & conscience universal blasts.
"Madness! Madness! Come old friend!" I remember saying,
"You're the first of life I've seen since the giant started slaying."
At first I wasn't nice to me, we both adjusted to ourselves,
And within our desperate lives we each hung mirrors on the shelves.
There's so many hollowed, crystal hallways; haunting hours endless run,
The light so bright, they'd fry your eyes; cooked barely over done.
Well Madness in this wild trip, soon saddled up revenge,
And coaxed himself from nervousness, a habit's clutching binge.
Spirit-spirs upon his boots, he loads pistols with his dreams,
Now weilding power greater than Olympus trickled streams.
Through thousands of his wars; he's maintained his will to live,
And retains his own inceptions that he's one that's still to give.
Eons in his madness, Madness saw the distant's rise,
The Tower of The Heartress soon beacons as a prize.
And off he rides again, the canyons pull the sunlight down,
Skeletal, the buzzards watch; with hungered... anxious frowns.
Next time you'll hear the story of adventures yet to come,
When Madness buckles down; and, into the sun, he runs...