Catoptric visions backfire,
Broken through clear words;
Within the shattered waters of lucidity dominion occurs.
There decaying outer souls,
Laying the banquet of endless old backwaters.
I stare at the flight of my vile fired hate,
To the hallways of floating puppets.
Hand-in-hand;
The galanty show
Of naive fear set in stone,
Of a value yet unknown.
The metamorphosis of I,
Circling to and fro
A masquerade on request,
Displace the covering and witness the blank space.
An act is all they know…
Bright surfaces ignite the eye
To the farce.
All verity,
A dip in the vortex of sleep.
Upon the funeral lake their
Nocturnal music, black grand piano floating
Of the shackles of dread and insecurity.
Familiar bottlenecks branch out into cutpurse impurity mugs,
Spirit in insatiable toil torrent moraine.
Heart in the air of perception,
Is granted to the few.