My lover is exigent like silence
In divergent streets
Looking for the thunder and lightning
We meet eye to eye without malice
With some rumors hushing into oblivion
Making conclusions on the wall
She looks from the exiguous corner of her eye
At my white and brown turncoat, to look at my pallor
I tip my hat to Mark S and Traveler
In suits, loitering in the dark
The soul violates the laws of physics
It now stretches thin and turns violet at the corner
It must be moist and hazy at dusk
The ships are bound to sail
The harbours are waiting patiently for dark
Without air to breath, I loosen my neck
I beckon to my companion, tell me her name
She has poetry with lyric and passion
But, she hasn't a point to make
Then she says, I don't like flowers
They make us seem vain
Where do I go now, she has my attention
I take a seat in the bar near the Waterloo station
The chiming clouds signal rain
I may never go out, as Lori walks hand in hand
From the ashes, I take my cigarette
Offering her a **** to smoke for a phantasmagoria
As the midnight comes to a calm
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.
Mark S, here's to you
Word challenge: phantasmagoria