Fidelity rest upon my shoulders
   Pushing my heels into the dirt.

Piety is but a word to your claim
   That covers oceans in cursive.

Feeble can take to you, their life
    For your mouth is the end all.

Tongues kiss like worms in flesh
    Who morph the gaps of teeth.
  
Raise all again, you sweet dove
     I sit at your will to find virtue.

As lightly as a newborn fawn takes its first steps - my hands will hold your face. With the faithfulness of a rosary - may I close my eyes to you.  To lean my head against your own. Let our minds marry and dream in one.

Deeper into cold-
orange leaves fall like snowflakes.
Chilled with destined fear.

Slit deep in the archway-
a phantom hollers.
For random keepsakes-
of tandem scholars.

One governs the Onset-
the second, the Coda.
A reckon to two takes-
pass a beckoned nova.

Madness sidles a soul-
to the coast of resent.
Where boast finds shapes-
the most unbent.

Echoes calling for Coda-
to warn of her face.
Which mourns the meek-
and thorns her grace.

To wonder of knuckles-
that fill ****** fist.
She kills those who seek-
to spill into mist.

No bed sheet drapes clean-
now lost to the few.
Who loft in their weak-
soft cradling queue.

Every onset must close-
while time is stone.
A climb without crest-
is rhyme laid alone.

Inferno marked through eyes-
the onset bows to hate.
And sweat, drowning vessels-
wet with ruined fate.

Shining on to such nothing-
the cheap martyr goes.  
Now sleeping with devils-
keeping their clothes.

Damp with foul meaning-
Onset and Coda are few.
Left in debt to the meddle-
that beset their old view.

Error to their contribution-
their cries created none.
With eyes full of remorse-
time flies again in one.

An end is our greatest desire-
so to begin is our fear.
Our kin kills the same horse-
that we shrill to spear.

Deep in the portal of question-
there dwells a stuttered pain.
That yells to complete the course-
so to knell once again.

Sighs from the outliers, where they sit on rims. Drowning in tin cans - they beg for a swim. Off of bottles, berths, and burdens; so, few.  The campfire brings warmth - an ember-ed view. They wish to wash off their past, so unclean. To dry with their fellows is all they dream. The fire cries cinders that fall like petals. While gazers awe, watching flames settle.

Death is in the realm of the simple
It can be belittled to a motion o’ so little
Its nature is bland
It concedes to a hand
Even a sane man can hold a pistol

Eyes, however, tell a different tale
When instructed to look past the crooked veil
Where can I stare
Where is the prayer
Of the monster that sleeps so frail

Pardon me if I speak in this form
But I can no longer live on this conform
My head lives in rumbles
My voice speaks in mumbles
Where can we sail from this calm storm

I feel like a beast when I speak
My eyes jitter and my mouth creaks
I would die to be sane
I would live to be vain
Why do the words in my teeth leak

My stutter sets flames engulfing my face
And I shatter relationships with such grace
A monster in his own accord
A monster left often ignored
I have felt my own lonesome place