A new magic,
Colours drawn,
A dawning warmth,
Born of sullen fun,

A place in your heart,
Her best smiling sun,
Measured with sweetness,
Beginnings begun,

I'm always being hit,
With old scripture and grift,
The grandiose stunts and filigree munt,
A bloodless maw, always asking for more,
Painting all as deplorable,
Counting souls,
Staining ceilings, spilling floors,
Moving in shades of beige,
Slaved to a faded,
Aged gait.

It's no secret of the knowing,
That the flight is in the doing,
In movement,
In acts,
In well measured facts,
Found forms of your own,
Bric-a-brac made your home,
Your human heart sewn,
Into tender dreams,
Shouted out,
Deep into night,
Not of light, might or righteousness,
Just a sweet little tune,
That powers your way,
As you wander through the haze,
Of inconsolable days,
You were always this way,

Mark my words, 
Tear them to shreds,
Slivered, gilded and etched,
Stretched out on my sleeve,
Where all to see,

Some writ or some ditty,
Character flaws,
Dumb, dazed, flights of fancy,
For all your deaf egos, 
Let me finish a **** sentence,

Righteous arrows fly untrue,
With barbed lips and poison tips,
A wicked way to gather for mass,
******,

Blank faces in the midst of beautiful sounds, 
A thousand unread emails, eyeballs glued to the screen,
A pirouette daze, ghosting on fleck,
Giving it that bespoke hipster cred,

Entangled, encrypted, salty speech,
I cry to my social feed, a more vapid abyss,
A mirror profoundly remiss in its connection to this,
I'm hearing only myself tearing through a mist,

No heart, no conscience,
Just rage feeding, hashtags and memory lags,
An afterimage mangled by algorithms.
A fractured life sold in parts,