My son, you may find me at the edge of reason.
As I prepare to jump, leap, look, walk off and careen
into the depth,
the dark
of shadowy eyes.
Those shadows indeed in my eyes relay vision.
And I can almost see beneath, to the bone and the haunt it pastes on its readers.
The skull in full strong decorum.
A shook spear once held something like it. Perhaps the poetry flows
and wanders where it goes. A sorrow ****** from serene non-life.
All I care is to note
that I have privilege of viewing close my stark intentions.
For that is what the skull shows,
in its lidless bower:
the heated soul of my evil.
Jul 20, 2011
Jul 20, 2011 at 1:11 AM UTC
My son, you may find me at the edge of reason.
As I prepare to jump, leap, look, walk off and careen
into the depth,
the dark
of shadowy eyes.
Those shadows indeed in my eyes relay vision.
And I can almost see beneath, to the bone and the haunt it pastes on its readers.
The skull in full strong decorum.
A shook spear once held something like it. Perhaps the poetry flows
and wanders where it goes. A sorrow ****** from serene non-life.
All I care is to note
that I have privilege of viewing close my stark intentions.
For that is what the skull shows,
in its lidless bower:
the heated soul of my evil.
If you're in the right light and are gazing upon something reflective, sometimes the shadow cast on your eye enables you to see what your skull would look like should the skin, muscle, vessel, and nerve be removed. The depression of your eye is darkened, simulating the hollow cavity where your eye goes.
I saw this in the mirror and I was inspired.
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