Trails of desire, and fortunes of love,
augment my sole goal,
To be with you.

Your beauty compels the most
Omnipotent of gods,
Who bow at the ray of your prescience.
Your voice quells all wars,
And fine tunes statovarius violins.
As your voice a fine piece of Mozart, carefully crafted to sooth my soul into slumber,
Where love sleeps.
Your smile that greets morning runners,
Lights the earth,
And rotates around to warm my soul.
As your smile a beautiful display of natures finest, a Starry-night.
Your ambience shelters all.
The beautiful prairie horse to my life;
determination to be(me).
As your ambience the tender gratitude a soldier will carry in battle, his final hours.
In the crucible of love and desire(for(you)).
Knowing you will be there(with me).
My love.

I gaze upon thee,
And all I see,
But a mere particle of dust
In the cacophonous dark sky.
Our rambunctious attitude startles it's
calm state of mind.
Sending it into an uproar,
Of fire and fury.

The desolation of all known,
A certain redemption of all those alone.

Eons of discourse erode at this star,
Until he lie,
But a mere pile of dust.

Two songs rage into the blue set sky,
As birds make their way to die.

I will never understand,
Nor should I.
The deep meanings and complexions of a
Feminine mind.
It lures and tangles itself within,
As if you are some instrument
To play.
My undying love for you wavers as proud
As the Stars and Stripes.
And as loud as a choirs might.
My love is as if blinders are placed upon my eyes and I can only see you.

For know I work my forward,
A miner chipping away,
But unwary of his direction in the chasm of love.
Your untimely gesture has surely crushed my spirit,
For now.
But the sun will rise, and I will chip way
Once more.

When did I become so foolish and fall into the despicable trap of love?
I wander now, angry,
But still haunted by the ghost of lust and loathe.
I can see it sometimes wander into my room and stare at me as I sleep.
It's fore long glare exhumes ignorance and sabotage.
It analyzes me, selling false narratives for the cheap price of $5.
I wonder you know, how you feel, how you sleep?
I sometimes wander the prairies of dreams in search of that oh so delicate ring, that I will never find.
They call me Sisyphus now, my absurd attempts squandered as the boulder I am so
Determined to push, tumbles down
The hill and into the abyss.
I had faith, but now in the frigid darkness of a cold winter storm,
I feel alone.
Marooned upon an island and eaten piece by piece by piece.
Slow roasted like a pig.

You are my flower, that bursts from the seams of reality and tells me that their is true beauty in this world.
My one.
You are the cool breeze on my neck in the deluge of a summers day.
You are the warmth that brings life back to me.
You are my green light at the end of the dock,
Childhood to my Holden, fate to my Oedipus.
You are love that will pull me out of the inferno and carry me to the banks of a river.
You are my essence.

(The permafrost will thaw.)

At the time between dusk and dawn,
I was caught strolling,
Not rolling,
But merely walking down a cobbled,
Shadowed walkway.
The echoes of light, bright
Store front lights
Ceased to exist.
A frigid, uneasy breeze started to crawl up my trousers and into my heart.
I became dark.

A shadowed, hallowed car appeared,
a mere apparition I feared.
A figure appeared, appeared right before my eyes,
It merely sat, and leered.
For it sat and analyzed me,
Sat and put me in an exhibit,
Sat and sketched my very fears.

I peered into the inferno, I came near,
Near to the mirage.
Greeting but not meeting, I wallow in
Sorrow, the despicable fallout, of my demise.

We walked you and I,
I sat, sat in that very seat,
In the old behemoth.
Where time meets space,
And fates meet.

Those muttering men,
Those men who've wandered the
land lonely and weary.
They conglomerate in the crevices
of nighttime bars and ***** motels.
They wander the streets,

Alone.

The state of augmentation and reality,
Blurry desires, and houses that are never built.

Blank pages drift down deserted days of furloughs and death.

They stare into the mirror,
Look through the pages of the fallen,
And find Oedipus staring right back.