A wasteland of desire,
Capsule of pathetic.
What happened to love?
I was the cupid seed.
Then never a boy, O grumpy soul!
For I grew I an adult of empty.
A stale, wilted rose,
A cactus amidst a lily pond
Dry and arid as another life.
And a simple gesture to topple it all,
A single scream, an unanswered call.
Such irony could dazzle a cynic,
If not so melded with fear,
If not so picturesque and pretentious,
Lone actor without a stage,
The bloodbath of a Hamlet night.
Lay shut the soliloquy now,
Lamentations and red curtain days.
Several succubus letters,
My little bag of demons.
The children they throw colors on me,
Red, blue, that defiling purple,
They clamour me like a sick joke,
Such fury! That beguilling hush.
Never an eye for detail,
But a method rigid as a *****
And a seemless pattern of nothing.
The answer is to never ask a question.
A diamond in the rough?
Never! Too short to be a gemstone.
And shine less an emerald,
Sick quintessence of a broken heel,
Four nurses to play my dreary song,
A tabla, tone deaf and perfect
My soul most ever a banshee,
A dust sister, prophecy friend.
I don't want this poem to end,
When I write I feel alive.
Oh to have control! To be a liar!
Never will I know such a fallacy!
I'm flying now,
One nozzle up and I'll expand.
Sudden right turn into oblivion,
The pilot and his seventh heaven.
My reflection in the clouds,
The stewardess and her prophecy carts,
She's pounding now,
Come closer! O rabid dog!
One more step, one more lost cause.
I roll, roll, roll,
Retreat ocean! Make me an effigy!