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Jamie King Aug 2023
Our wealth an unfaithful wife, she's sooner gone when perils knock.
A bridegroom to poverty you may find yourself. A glutton, not a meal will she spare.

Our vessels, dust that longs for dust, in daily decay.
Our habitats are pedestrians in paths of typhoons and wrothful waves.
Our families are cups of bliss but a well of dismay.

We dull the mind in sewers, with each sip an illusion of joy resumes, as sorrows sleep.

A well of eternal bliss longed for having rejected The Owner. The springs of life freely flows but sewers we have preferred.
The spring of life flows freely the invitation has been shared.
Walker Nov 2020
It sickens me to think so much of you.
From dusk till dawn,
in my most surreal moments and most lucid dreams,
why must your presence linger?
It is maddening- unbearable! You, who wonder post yonder,
who sings to the birds and sky
- twisted cretins of mystery and seriality, mythical sirens of sea and ocean-
leave my wretched, scarred heart be.

For what do you do - to call upon such wrothful an affliction,
that it may strike me dizzy and unaware?
You, unassuming and smiling sins of lust and allure,
who dance upon the shore so close yet far,
whose wistful voices shatter blissful serenity
to bring about turbulent motions of loss and devotion,
who pierce the seven layers of hide and bronze and strike,
truest at my heart- how, how, how!

Leave me be,
untainted breaths of skin and laughter,
which swings upon the nightshade fields with the lands before,
to suffer this solitude alone.
Your love, a wine so tasteful, is not mine to pour,
so leave me addicted- bitter forever more-
to drift within melancholic memories of oceans, depth unfathomable,
listless and lost- in wavering arted eyes…

Yet you linger
- so soft a chocolate, so sweet a voice-
tantalizing yet unobtainable. Your presence, it bares!
Like Atlas, how great a burden you carry, warm wisps ephemeral
- in a heart ****** and cold- a beacon!
to that which remains, for those bitten by arctic chill,
and for that which lingers,
driven and ever thrilled.

And how it shivers-
the phantoms of your touch, the quivers of your tears, the rhythms of your heart!
Begone, I beg! No more, no more I beg!
Prisoner I am to you, to you and your wretched kind,
so torture me no more!
A wolf, a pup, a vagabond, a priest
- I be what you command! No more,
my mistresses of loves lost and found, times far and before!
I beg, no more!

I worship, I pray
- I cherish the lands your feet kiss and tread.
I write, I praise!
- Your diluted presence, your enchanting call!
No more, no more!  Death, be my savior!
Save this mind- tyranted by heart, let it be no more!
I break, I Break! I break and shatter!
And diamond eyes (!) sit upon their thrones horizon forward yonder!

Safety, save me-
let me love and lose and ponder no more!
Poisoned presence!
Poisoned love, begone!
Fractured heart, Death be my savior
- let love haunted and torture,
let Love hunt no more!
Oh love, bitter love, torture me no more!
Love comes easy, but rarely is its path pleasant and, while we might not always have it returned in kind, is not love the greatest form of tortured beauty?

— The End —