It is time you faced that abomination.

You don't need to be secretive about it;
You falter on the mere embrace of shame.

The frightening realisation that was brought forth
When you stumbled on the playground of greed.

The pestering of hands that point and eyes that stare
Bridled to your chest with lust for the meek.

On the edge of time you stood, floudering in a haze
To cope with the piercing daze of vertigo

Thus I ask to abolish that hurt
To call your empty heart and let go.

Dried paint dripped past the canvas
In a velvet scarlet red it dropped
On the floor, in front of my feet
The exposition, as astonishing, pierced my perception
Whenever the cave opened, it was visible
Moving carricatures of obscene defeat
In front of me stood the hideous exemplar of fear
Most importantly, I saw the reflection speak in the mirror

I watched the boiling gleam amass inside
The radiant glow that embraced me in warmth

It enticed me in its heat, intention underneath
As it burned intensely like the sun

Incandescent flourish of the fire
The blossoming of inspiration

I was embued in the amber hue
Renaissance of my inner witness

I brought my emotions to the front
As the calm finally hit me

Golden ooze emanating as sticky velvet shimmering
Incandescent mellow slime adheres to my eyes.

The instant that fireflies cluttered the sky
In tufts of effulgent light, illuminating the heavens

From the sins of glory frolicking above, without resent
I would play my heart's desire in the lustrous glow

Affluent of romance, in the critters' dance
The warm daydream in exuberant daze

Idyllic illustrations so vivacious and serene
Of embers and wisps fluttering, in harmony

The amber of the deities stroking the world's vitality
Bloating the shells with determination

Fragrant seeds amongst the barren fields
That sow and yield the feats of fraternity - a wonderful time together

Does that spirited desire brim many chalices
That hold the essence they cherished and held dear?

Alas, the mere beaks of the mountains display
Mere creeks that seep discretely

Infallible caveats, seething with deceit,
Retracting the essence replacing the grief

Hurt tangles caressing their cheeks
In fluffy, soothing melancholy

Gazing at the lilac sky, a cruel epiphany
When the judgement of burnt genocide condemned me;

It embraced me in an exalted, wayward dazzle.

Predatory traces remain amongst the spread soot
The ashes that bore the incentive of a smile
A lonely ribbon flew along the scene - it was caught;
Grasped by the canids of a desperate pastime.

"Papa, can you hear me?"
"I will be holding the candles today"
"You have returned at last..."
"... but why did you leave again?"

Muffled screams, stinging pain, faint echoing of what remains,
The vitality that lingered in the sun,
Disappeared, in its stern gleam.

Trails of anguish resonate through the field, a grand feast
Clotted tufts, sent with grief, are held and spread over the field
My dearest father,
When the light shone down and revealed its deceit,
A realm that struck me headfirst, belittling me,
As you dance with the wind, I cry for an eternity.

The hounds of decay sing a melody, so daunting, intimidating tones
In deafening ecstasy, the games the shepherds play,
The ceasing of a prosperous juvenescence, killing feisty innocence.

In a loud cascade, the scenery deteriorates
Lush wisps of fire, dulled petals flourish in the wind
Dim embers, odoriferous leaves that dwindle amongst the feet
In anger they remained at the efflorescent poppies
The putrid grave that yielded

The warmth of the snow felt enticing, exciting
The numbed senses within the blank slate.

"I will be home tonight"
"Crying in the darkness"
"For my dearest smile..."

"... exists no more."

Do they create a melody?
Such monotony in the duplicates of delirium
A charade that tainted the soul of creators,
As many they inspired;
Blissfully they clasped the canvas,
Embracing traces of putrid ink stains.
Covering with scarlet paint amongst the burnt umber,
Repressing sentiments of enamorment,
Fingers clamped, quill in hand.

The master found itself overwhelmed
By the cacophony of brush strokes.
Deafening tones puncturing, the bespoke rhythms of droplets
Desecrating the workplace.

A heavy haven, hove from heaven,
Fragments of brittle stories
In its somber glory;
Teetered, tattered rags, rig the template
Spread out in callous allegory.
Amongst gardens of ebony, ivory, mahony
The sonorous cask speaking in gibberish atony.

Do they play that lustrous sound?
Review the mouth of the cunning vertebrae,
The effigies of landscapes.

Abstractions of words clad the canvas
In amorphous blobs, strung strings
Of thin inked lines piled amongst the bars.
A quintuplet of harmony barring noise
The resonance of the feather carressing the leaves.

So forth, the master drew his last stroke
The composer's œuvre of bleeding, soundless words
The chords of compromise between creasing,
Heaping canvases,
On hope of the sleeping crowds
To reverberate its symphony once more.

Ultramarine hues from the seabed
            Mounting its clasp around my back

The sand scrubs, caressing my still torso
            The crystallizing salts around my back

It tore me to shreds as I was consumed whole.

      Farewell, solemn docks at bay of the mellow beach
      Of soft, silken sand, like glass shards underneath my feet

The ambient hum of the watchtower cast its judgement over the body
            Reflecting a pale violet into the greenery

Wasted debris coated in glistening, diamond
            Worthless scraps of a cadaver

Coloured teal and periwinkle, stained amongst the surface
            It floats, embroidered with algae, to Atlantis.