Time moves forward,
The earth spins its silk,
On mornings wed with buttermilk,
Your ingénue sleeps,
Under a honeycomb sky,
Weeping sweet into her dream soaked eyes,

The walls of your heart were a dusty rose tapestry,
An interior of toothache and sticky ghosts,

He called for that criminal kiss,
For the warmth of the reminisce,

Her limbs were snug,
Gathered like a bouquet,
Thrown at your temple floor,
Sleeping wrapped within his holy grail,

Blossom spilled from his hallowed lips,
You whisper I taste of rosewater and new worlds,
Meaning the summer was lost inside us,
Consumed by a religious hunger,
In a locket of wild heat,

Arrest your memory before I forget,
As us criminals often do,
I fly alongside hope,
Like a honeybee in rain,
And pray I will make your sermon change.

But these Eyes which fall on words inevitably unwritten,
Resonates absurdity's fingertips,
A delayed abomination,
Dancing with harlequins in their ring of retribution,
sing out with a poet’s mocking:

‘Fear your mistress/fear your maiden,
Decorated in her daisy chain of souls,
And silver to her bones from stone cold matinees’,

With Carnal thirst for the cruel phantoms
Who patrol like clockwork within a cell patterned cathedral,
Chanting monologues pairing their patience with promise,
In Shadows behind the collar they hide,
With convulsive voices knotting the synapses like shoelace,

This Fruitless curiosity meets with defeat,
The divine torture of invisibility argued with nihility,
Running blood of a guardian and a watcher's ghost,

With whom do they divulge their surrender to?
An anonymous force or a non-existent one?
Maybe they refute the toxic plains of prayer,
Maybe it is their duty to be timekeepers not lovers,