i.

The notes are ingrained
by the blue petalled flames,
burning them into my bones.
All other colors fade,
detach,
suspended in a waking dream.


Here, in the lingering lucidity,
this maddening gnaw of pain
leaks the little whispers,
stealing rhapsody from pleasure.

ii.

Tightrope treachery,
a daringly dancing gypsy
spinning about on a narrow wall.

A burning star,

she leaps...

leaving shimmering stardust
in her wake,
balance risked for the
momentum of grace.

A barter between freedom and fate,
perhaps circles of three
will bring it all tumbling
to the ground.

iii.

Ariadne abandonment,
I foam milkweed at the mouth
under the burning moon.

Casting aside
the anguish of this tether,
feeding tinder to an infant rage,
I let its coals singe my soul
while this blazing inferno
carries my fury forward.

I **** the marrow of courage...

Now, I shall deprive the Minotaur of his horns
and roast Theseus' heart upon their tips!

iv.

The flavor of innocence on my lips
has become a sorrowing memory.
In the waking moments, the world
slowly becomes unbound before me,
my wandering is done,
the final marks are made.

And the taste of one too many poppies
tingles on my tongue,
as my voice is laid out on a slab of words.