The master,

of trippingly spoken worded verse,

tooling through lives and loves

of tragic scenario.

 

Be still stolen hearts,

run through with rapiers,

while I,

toiling for my Juliet,

run my hunt

my quest,

with status-factions broken,

of world worded conspiracy acts

hindering the finding of my place

within the born bearing of the mainframe.

 

What dreams may come to the ended,

when mortis opens his door and points.

hold to yourselves,

to your families,

and live with eyes unblinded and open,

through mine,

I have not but to see.

 

What voice

from yonder window,

where light breaks

the ear drumming beat,

of my heart’s broken speed,

 

I wander alone

down the boulevard’s center,

pining for one,

who was held in me for such a time,

I am forgotten the days

journeyed without.

This,

the now moment of time,

I stand in wait and want,

for a name to connect,

before the face is met,

 

and the understanding is mine,

For the tones descending,

call to me images,

Ideas and ideals

that hold me,

both terrified,

and wanton.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s