"tsavorite" poems
How treacherous.
How boring.
It was a time between three and four.
A time between eleven and one.
The pre-emptive witching hour.
The incidental grey area.
My mind was a-buzz.
My thoughts were flashing.
I knew not what they were,
But I was morose and melancholic.
I could not work.
I could not sleep.
I could not think.
Chaos had become my order.
And infinity had become my moment.
Then, there ahead of me,
Stood two women,
Straight and strong.
One was a Siren
The other, a Muse.
I thought hallucinations.
Perceived ideas through a ******* mind.
But alas, they were real.
I touched them and reacted.
Warned against their poison.
Their mercuric tongues.
Their stolen hearts.
Their arachidonic souls.
And their odd Tsavorite eyes.
They walked.
I followed.
Into a labyrinthine hive,
They sauntered.
Nonchalant angels,
Indifferent to my stalk.
In the centre, there lay
An abyss.
They sat on the edge
And beckoned me
Forth.
I accepted, curious, yet cautious.
And through the Song of the Siren,
And the Myth of the Muse,
The blackness beckoned.
I fell, I flew to my mind’s end.
Accepted my descent, unknowingly.
The air was still. The tunnel black.
And I landed softly.
Alone. Safe. Hungry.
So, I walked to the edge.
The Siren waited. Offered her tail
And walked.
Crawled into smoke, was a Rat.
The Siren pointed, then followed
The smoke.
Rat awoke, to run to my foot,
Up my leg and towards my shoulder.
Rat pointed too,
So I walked to the edge
To appear in water.
Glistening and moist
Stood the Muse,
With a smile on her lips.
Again her tail led me,
As Rat jumped to the Muse.
We glided in the water,
Blinded in the dark,
Until we reached a cave, having dodged the rocks.
Inside, I was left,
Save for Rat.
The Muse flew off, a smile on her lips.
Drowning, by my waist, was a rodent. Erinaceous and small.
I lifted it up and placed Hedgehog on the opposite shoulder.
Hedgehog thanked me,
And showed me the way.
A niche in the rock.
We entered, all the same.
On the other side was a bed.
There lied the Siren and the Muse.
Seductive and Bare.
I was pulled forth.
Their tails were strong.
Their tongues were mercury.
Their hearts were stolen.
Their souls were arachidonic.
Their eyes were Tsavorite.
I was poisoned all along.
In vapid lust,
Morose passion,
Melancholic ecstasy,
It ended.
They have left me
Only with Rat and Hedgehog.
Here I will die.
Led to be abused.
All that shall be known
Of my boring and treacherous
Witching hour
Is this story.
I dedicate it to
The Muse,
The Siren,
Who are but one girl.
And to Rat, Hedgehog and me
Who is but one *******
May 30, 2011
May 30, 2011 at 7:44 PM UTC
A lofty rabbit stands afore me
Mocks and jeers, if occasionally.
It came from behind a curtain.
Why now, I am not certain.
To the masses, I flee.
It jumped and socialised with humans there.
Aware I was; always naked and bare.
Confused I heard and spoke.
It shrunk only slightly, yet it leered.
Speak with a distraction, my ***** play the same.
True, my contradiction, sometimes it I blame.
Useful, as always, I speak to a girl.
Eyes of Tsavorite, tongue of Mercury; what a thrill.
The girl she responds, yet why does the rabbit smile?
Could the rodent have sent me to her? How vile.
This act creates displeasure.
My mind, here, loved her at my leisure.
A sip, a sip, from a forbidden phial.
This was a day beyond my conscious.
Betrayed and now, slightly anxious.
You see, I knew to love you, would
Not be intelligent. Refrain, I should.
Yet, here I write merely to be bloodless.
May 30, 2011
May 30, 2011 at 2:40 PM UTC