filled up with enmity coiling up inside
The chest billows up
Thy want to heave it out
Then destined to tranquility
The claws scratch the flesh
Death gnaws on the remnants of longevity
Unless visions have a chest
To burst out into effervescence
Spontaneous sigh is kicked out of your breath
The clavicles sharpen, the eyes ogle ahead
The nothingness dilates
The flicker has no entrance for itself to adumbrate
For utopia has its own gore
To marvel over inside,
The plasters of bliss
Have guffawed over the gullible dusk
The gloom has left with a whisper
A muttering not to be heard
The relief has sewed on flesh
With the clouds coming out of thy outburst
The relief rebirths the serenity
Has been meandered, halted
For thou shed leaves
Making agony to clouds of no return
Utopic defiance,
the idiosyncratic anectodes
Stains of externalized innundation
For the literal existance of hope.