Breach the sky, rogue of lesser intent.
It flows from your form
Into functional digression.

Aberrance sits atop clouds of whist;
Emblazoning the counterbalance
Of wrought man,
From places in the vacuums of time;

Gravity, potentiating, pulls and sways
Of flights forwards and
Drops backwards.

The flight of ancients,
The tears drawn from maidens,
And the encircling clouds
Beneath an astral thoroughfare.

Conjugating passage through stone
With searing dissent;
The contents of the cranium spill.

Everything bleeds into nowhere
And revels, as it does, in the
Rife times of splinter and nail,
Breaching the skies

Where men fear to tread –
To walk vertically, lose restraint
And spill into blissful upheaval.