Masochistic Romance

Androgynous youth, sometimes it’s an arduous task to decipher gender,
Other times they model themselves after brutal Gothinian hordes,
The Prussians and the vandals haunt the behemoth roman forces,
Beginning a legacy of humanitarian ethical deterioration .

Bound not by moral constraints, legacies of violent primitives,
Excelling intellectually, yet bitter in nature,
Culture spurring moral dilapidation,
Like depleted wells, children lack the conscience that protected our past.

Latterly I was embarking on an odyssey of darkness and a jaded persona,
But Jahnavi you saved me from sociology, from my past,
With our arguments sidelined with affectionate umbrages,
We went from debaters to lovers, now your smile can defeat any argument.

Fated dyads like scintillating evanescent lights, rare and beautiful,
Yet one must always worry about losing such a wondrous thing,
Water crashes only on the shore when it’s shallow enough to allow it,
Like great depths, we may silently coast only to be remembered by those we choose.

My liberal darling, my hippie dearest, I would fight a war to keep you unscathed,
Meet my waterloo, collapse and die to keep your precious beauty pure,
You’re my asylum, your words offer me refuge in times of unprecedented insanity,
Like crimson lips in a world of multiple grays.

With each stanza I echo enigmas, I wonder if you can look back and construe new meanings,
Frigid frames of glass, persistently averse to affection,
I sit in the cold, lonely and away from my love,
As I approach the verges of the emotional spectrum I tremble, but I move forward.

I ache to be alone, I think I may be falling behind,
Insignificance consumes me and I am devoured by my own weakness,
Ignorant and dumb I am but a nebbish in a world of valiant beings,
I condemn modern culture yet I am as much a product as anyone else.

My ill conceived notions of self grandeur,
Failures as a man, a homo-sapient fiasco,
In the quiet, oh baby I really suffer, tears pour from me and my soul escapes from it’s physical penitentiary,
Sometimes when I puff a cigarette I wish I could swallow the smoke…

In this light you see, I am pathetic, I guide yet I am lost myself,
An oxymoron of a man, hypocritical and foolish,
In this quiet I am drowning, I need to hear your voice,
But now I must bid you adieu for vocalism is not my forte, for I am but an illusion…

Apparitions can write but never speak, they can smile but it’s always so bleak,
Like stigmatized existence, I glide so abysmally, I shiver so grimly,
Praise the living and embrace the dead, swallowed in seas of darkness,
So many lives lost to war, someday I shall join the ranks of casualties…

Wow, nice one, I love the diction and the imagery. The poem shares a few of my views also.