This heart...
This heart has never cut so deep;
My eyes, nowhere near these rivers of burning.
Scolding & steaming these windows that look outside,
from fractured, frantic angry skies.
I ponder, now so more than I had ever,
a reflection, left behind in the washing waves,
stagnant; this pond-scum epidermus,
it hangs,
it rots,
it grows...
I do not know what it grows into, for I am just a mortal man;
Perhaps, I thought; that powers go beyond,
Spiraling helix's, wonderous pursuit;
Maybe in the fabric of time;
You'll find me there,
When our galaxies cross once again, across shadow-drinking daisies,
I'll miss you my friend... my friend... my love...
so many words, so many names; I'll keep them to me,
I'm not going to share these tortures,
And when I've faded into the wilting roots & cracks,
I'll smother myself within your degrees,
I'll sink in the cellar; Scot's-styled on knees,
Please...
For every time I laughed; the monster's held their knives,
Ticking every tally,
Carving wasted hopeful lives;
I suffer from your dream disease,
My infections, dying veins...
Grinding every grain...
Pulling heartless chains...
You led me to these valleys, do you remember?
We traveled here on our Nimbus steed,
He's dead now, too, like Edgar Allen Tinkerbell;
My Annabel Lee of the dead sea,
She flutters in a goddess rain,
Her spray, my only sutor.
The power of the One;
I thought it was the same... just as we all had once,
maybe as kids, with unseen aging taverns;
But it was the idea then, when the very essence of hope; itself,
and even desire,
charismatically caress me; reach inside this hollow heart;
pull out all the stuffing and just mark it on a chart;
But somewhere, deep within these shell like vines,
that keep the world away,
It shimmers; as I had once... you don't remember the shimmering,
you were asleep, dreaming; until you awoke in our world,
or maybe,
our time & part to play in this librarian-less existence...