Simply sibilant, snake shapes saying something softly,
Situation **** and sift sloppy, sodden, - sorry.
Sullen sordid stories, son of Sam,
Scabbards scavenged swords in Sabbath scams,
Sacrilege so savage, scattered sadness spans,
Supermarket salamanders scanning stamps,
Scallywags,
Sale! super savings! samples!
Spam.
Scene set, spent smattering surplus sacrifice,
Salivate, savor sapidness, sate, sedate, sat sufficed.
Sally's saxophone, Simon's silly shiny sabre,
Santa statues stand slated saints, some sages; same saviours,
Smirking surgeons skirting surfaced sapience,
Sacredness seldom stages shabby states in simultaneum,
So sides seat seperate, Segregated sects split the stadium.
Sagaciating services swathed symbols stitched in superstition,
Simply the situation simian sufficient.

We lay together for the last time,
A cold embrace,
Where never before had we been so far apart.
The disparity in deficits, until there's nothing left,
No words, no background, no memories,
And it's so quiet I can hear you thinking,
Every word over in poetic narration.
I wish I could say the modesty seemed overbearing,
But this time was different,
Like horse-meat with white wine,
It might take some getting used to,
And I'm not surprised,
Nor angry, nor placid,
Just ephemeral to the sway,
And maybe you're broken,
Irreparable, but things will be as they always have,
Wherever and as they may.

My own points of view,
Distilled in a dialect of disjointed truths,
Don't know how best to say this,
But without artistic expression every other word is tasteless.
Can't stop, can't become complacent,
But the other side watches me from perspectives placed adjacent.
Wish I made it,
Wish the whole world was just a little bit less abrasive.
Can't say I understand it much at all,
But maybe you could decipher something worthwhile in my cryptic scrawls.
Easy to see the whole world as corrupt,
But I'd much rather see it as majestic as ****.

She smelled of wild lavender and deep magicks,
The scent hanging in the air like a golden silence,
I'm trying to hold tightly yet composure is first to dissolve,
Senses fall one by one until no dominoes are left,
Stop staring, act natural and crumble on the inside,
Don't speak, reserve your efforts for a smile,
Blown fuse serviced from the under-wing like vertigo in my veins, and neatly betwixt ******* twirl a cotton drapery,
Framed in silk halo, enshrouding like auras in a Milky Way of phantasmagoria.
Until my thoughts become in summary and each breathe becomes shorter than the last.
The artistry of her elegance like sleek fine line-work on vintage paper and I'm ... feather light.
And in those tresses I'd seen that sheen before, in the ripple of calm ocean waves, and in auburn at sunset.
I'd seen that gloss in her eyes perched upon petals as morning dew and rain upon windows in my quiet times,
Between the silhouetting slopes of her contours as dunes upon the horizon, there's an eclipse in her lips that would not speak in any less than measured prosody nor kiss without dreamscape grandeur.

I carry a casual carapace,
A character trapped in ambience.
Amble the alleyways and ascertain an avid state in acid rain,  
The product a revision of charisma corrected conditions,
How I've come to envision a victim or a villain.
Attach the cataracts to collapse to a tone of grey,
We're all the same under the sages, same as saints.
Geared to the gutters, I greet in mustered mutters,
I mumble through humble structures,
The tongue erupting ruptures.
                
I'm sure they see me as a background actor,
In the shadows of a flagship,
The character on mute behind a selective scene of laughter.
Is this disembodiment, or an echo of the cage?
The skin, bones and flesh under the semblance of a face.
Amazed by the growth of atrophy,
A passenger passing passively,
Impactfully passing passages,
Just practicing for a classic scene.
Fit in, camouflage, play ******* chameleon,
The inner truth a Gilles suit, where this mere meat is measured in a meager mediums.

I'm certainly a circus of surplus circuitry,
I could be less of a mesh of flesh,  with a sense of urgency.
Here a golem strung by the clockworks of a blueprint,
Chiseled in with details and a little bit of hubris.
Pistons Positioned to pivot, pin, - all inclusive,
Grinding on the causeways of abusive truths in future,
Joints cracking, hinges at their thresholds,
Attention to the details, a trend to tend to tenfold.