Cut a Clearing in Time if You Dare


I dared
To cut a clearing in time
Trudging through its deceitful years
Waist deep in its putrid grime

Wading until I am lovingly called
Coveted by the heirlooms
From the squalor I humbly crawled

How did I fare?
I fared not so well!
Hateful and scrawny
I am marred by a winding hell!

Do I still dare?
To scale the treachery of hope
With eyes foolishly glinting
Urging me to buckle and cope

Or dare I fold?
Scuttle my iron resolve
Plummet to normalcy
And quietly dissolve


My Spoiled Composure


The utter demise of my composure
Is what I behold, with both elation and despair
Rife with longing, I crumble beneath her mighty treads
Bound to an insatiable hunger
That festers madly within

I steam for hours on end
Groveling, as I falter with drunkenness
Stricken once again with an unnatural illness
That has long plagued me, through quivering adolescence

To trivial yearnings
How I ache for its pristine daughters
Strolling, through the ominous glow of daybreak
And collapsing atop me
Beneath the weight of lunar glory

I am pinned to its lustful vice
Endlessly gorging on its gluttonous treasure
Fixed at the feet of luxury
Where I dissolve
Both shamelessly and wretched

Vagrant Slabs


We are pieces, jam-packed in an illusion
Shape shifting through the empty voyage of time
To the vagrant slabs, caught up in their own being
Carry on in your aimless stride

Who will shuffle into desolation first?
Crowding the overpasses
As roads bustle with chaos
As thoughts stray and clash
Behind the rumbles of desperation

Some pegs fall in
Others displace
Yet some remain still
Consuming it all in horror

And so we shift endlessly
Answering only to the mighty wisp
The chill that drags both the vagrant and the still
Into the frozen embrace of eternity

Swindled Out of Existence


Time soars and withers behind every thought
Frittered, upon the rogue journeys of dragonflies
They fixate, upon fowls that flutter in boundless luxury
Forever, may they roam certain and free

Into the arms of twilit wonder
I shed the fabrics of my feeble existence
Wandering, further into cloudy delusion
Seemingly weightless within eternal ease

How these pages have swindled me
Thieving of precious exuberance
To no longer frolic, among my weightless brethren

How trouble has wrung my skin and bones dry
Risen at the beckoning of idle hands
Softly dwindling, the remnants of my better years

I carry the deathly seeds of suffrage
Locked in a mind kept at bay
Sewn by the edge of a trembling quill
Where I efficiently, and willingly lose my way

A Leviathan of my Own


This heart of mine, dwindles and dulls
Scrambling so feverish for a gracious lull
Peace, shies from my clueless strive
Answering only to those who may survive

Iron-clad leagues, tread on with vigor
Snarling at death whilst squeezing their triggers
Worn by peril they march in a cursed daze
No longer rattled by death’s boundless haze

And so I must scuttle this fear
Gradually, through every passing year
Treading alongside, the many lives I hold dear

Peril can no longer be endured alone
With strength in company, coursing through my bones
Panic will dissolve, falling further into the unknown

No Son of Mine


An opening barrage of keystrokes
Carries away your loving juvenile
The heavy slam of incendiary loathing
Barks with the malice, he can no longer contain

As the dust whirls around and above
An eerie solace tolls within his smile
With a deathly stride he embarks for eternity
Shunning, your most urgent of cries

Shrill premonitions
To which he no longer heeds
Fall tiresome, depleted and worn
In their final moments they scour the earth
withering unnoticed and casually forgotten

“No son of mine! “
Chimes peppered in relevance
Festering angrily
As hosts gather and steam

“No son of mine!”
Is the cry of your disdain
A keeper of peace, he gladly betrays