The pain like cuts deep into my soul,
Release a bliss,
An ecstasy,
The pain like deep cuts of a razor blade,
The blood running over like an eclips of bliss and pleasure,
Why does pain have to give pleasure and yet take so much,
Devoid of feeling I'm left hopeless the pain is the last thing I hold onto,
Like the cuts of a razor
A ladder further into
Insanity
The pain like deeps cuts into my soul,
Release a bliss
An ecstasy.

Logic, never etch'd within love
broken galaxies bent with regrets
star clusters came unglued under pressure
reasoning bit the dust'd path

comet tails exceed the limit
delusional constellations play with fate
staring up becomes looking down
on night path footprints’ maze  

heart's exploded into fragment'd cinders
hanging onto darkly serendipitous uncertainties
waiting for crystal azure skies to sheen upon
twists of destiny's dismal glitz again

still fractur’d moonbeams
broke rank in obsolete formations
collecting emotion’d confessions
draped by black velvet sighs

wishing upon radiant eventide
whilst dancin' amidst twilight's glimmers
waves crashing sympathies last grasp
that dusky nightfall brings us sunrises

once eclips’d by passion’s shade
looking directly upon its hidden glow
wind’d breaths of amber blushing
sing sweet lullabies to morning’s harmony

Logic, never etch'd within love
broken galaxies bent with regrets
star clusters came unglued under pressure
reasoning bit the dust'd path

comet tails exceed the limit
delusional constellations play with fate
staring up becomes looking down
on night path footprints’ maze  

heart's exploded into fragment'd cinders
hanging onto darkly serendipitous uncertainties
waiting for crystal azure skies to sheen upon
twists of destiny's dismal glitz again

still fractur’d moonbeams
broke rank in obsolete formations
collecting emotion’d confessions
draped by black velvet sighs

wishing upon radiant eventide
whilst dancin' amidst twilight's glimmers
waves crashing sympathies last grasp
that dusky nightfall brings us sunrises

once eclips’d by passion’s shade
looking directly upon its hidden glow
wind’d breaths of amber blushing
sing sweet lullabies to morning’s harmony

moves like ash through the air
                                                off a balcony
                                                            Me
                                                             of course I’m coarse like gloves  
                                                for falconry
                                                        ­    My
                                                             stomach is the water of the
                                                Balkan Sea
                                                            Her
                                                             cadence is the snow in Fuji
                                                mountain’s spring
                                                          ­  She’s
                                                             a tree I would down just
                                                to count the rings
                                                            When­
                                                             she moves her mouth in any
                                                amount it sings


                                                            Sh­e’s
                                                            When­.
                                                            she’­s
                                                            when­,
                                                          silent­ sirens sing
                                                  on violent violet islets
                                                            and seems
                                                    all the world’s a dream
                                                             I
                                                             am
                                                               the
                                                   breeze the sea sends
                                                           ­   and seas uneven
                                                          ­  sinks ships
                                                           ­     clips wings
                                                                ­ indecent
                                                        ­        is ants
                                                                ­ in the lips
                                                          of her honey drip
                                                                ­       ings
                                                                ­        swings
                                                  ­                      whips
                                     ­                                    glist
                                                                ­           ning
                                                                ­          eclips
                                                ­                           ed  
                                                            ­           miss thing
                                                                ­      get with
                                                            ­            hitch
                                                                ­          ings?
                                                                ­         drip
                                                                ­    queen of kings
                                                           ­               miss  
                                           ­                                myth
                                                            ­             I’m miss
                                                            ­                  ing
                                           ­                           can we just slip
                                                                ­                 into
                                                                ­                  exist
                                                                ­                   ing
                                                             ­             got you in my grip
                                                                ­                 my grip
                                                                ­                     is
                                                                ­                   tight
                                                           ­                          ning

Twisted thorns point, and ***** my lips

touched me like, bee stings at the tip

like the fallen eclips, travel the lukeworm

formed fluffy pillows, touched by your storm.

© S.T. Rebel of Eden

1



A whisper, Frederic Raphael and glittering prizes. We are not
patients in this hospital ward, a couple. The prize, I under-
stand is my birthday present... Past salt on my face, like the
dream you get in the night. Behind the castle, your first kiss
stolen. Imagine what time would be like, the future? Whispers

midday in the summer heatwave we will be hiding in the cool-
ness of the river. Time in the clock is flying, your pick-up sticks
Mikado solitary game behind the wide hourglass, I am still wai-
ting for the body- sun- eclips. In your secret location, a song
about the garden, what's on the petri dish? Micro tessalation...

Tessa Cycle III










1



A whisper, Frederic Raphael and glittering prizes. We are not
patients in this hospital ward, a couple. The prize, I under-
stand is my birthday present... Past salt on my face, like the
dream you get in the night. Behind the palace, your first kiss
stolen. Imagine what time would be like, the future? Whispers

midday in the summer heatwave we will be hiding in the cool-
ness of the river. Time in the clock is flying, your pickup sticks
Mikado solitary game behind the wide hourglass, I am still wai-
ting for the body- sun- eclips. In your secret location, a song
about the garden, what's on the petri dish? Micro tessalation...