By way of indiscretion
I am predisposed to predilection
of the nigh impenetrable suspension

That which bides upon the mind
and rides the tides of nought,
within the rinds of effervescence
in the overhang of mental essence

For thee, wherein a gaze is placed
upon the ever flayed
winds of the
fleeting horizon,

Shock the heart
to delve in art
And feel life aplomb
with chockablock awe

I offer oft ineffable works
of apocrypha
and ominous
detracted viscera
Woebegone,
to tarry in the sunlight