The Dearly Departed Fool

I was never involved
Enthralled
By the world’s
Turning chorus

Its faded mantra
Dwelt softly
Divorced
From my hearth
Of home-brewed distress

For I was
The dearly departed fool
The internal rover
Unhinged
And loyal to silence

The spectator
Who never truly coursed
With the restless
Swill of valor

In the infinite
Sprawling shadow
Full, with ruthless want

Feather-Light

Feather-light
I disengage
From this daily
Laboring pulse

Torn away
From the ivory cage
And the havoc reaped
By weary sight

I drain away
Melodically
Joyously, faltering
Into shadowy rapture

And yet
Too soon
The world returns

Scalding my limbs
In its vengeful
Vitriolic tide

When Our Flames Fed the Open Skies

Vice
Was all that remained
To be fully known

As the flames
Of the former world
Fed, the open skies
With their turbulent song

The youth
All staggered
In rhythmic sorrow

Unified by grief
In their cerebral
Hopeless, spiraling

As all time drew
To a deathly halt
And refuge was lost
To the towering
Walls of white

And the ever-pursuant
Years
Of endless black

A Furious Demise

Hysteria
Is a ghostly
And sly affliction

Marauding
From within
In each heedless
Tread I claim

Hysteria
Is a prowling
And devious brute

The scourge
The drover of worlds
To depravity and ruin

To the roaring flames
A glimmer
In the binds of carnage

A lingering fate
At the frayed road’s close
Its panicked
And furious demise

The Full Weight of Disdain

As if
I were flea-ridden
A stray lurking
In the rain-ravaged gutters

I bear the full weight
Of seething eyes
Downcast and infernal
Drawn
To my sinking form

Strangers boil over
Swept up
In the fury of disdain

Rearing
Fearfully posturing
Towering, brimmed
With phony valor

As if
I were forged in doubt
Destined for the streams
Confined
To the gutter’s whim

The Impossible Leap

These iron roads
Bend at their will
Through lavish fields
Of tireless rapture

Yielding the world
At its joyous prime
Prosperous and bold
In its full, chaotic bloom

Stout
With the boastful blare
The deafening quarrel
Of villains and saints

These faithful roads
Yield a sure escape
The impossible leap
From the den
Of ravenous despair

My House of Desecrated Dreams

Carted away
With blinded fervor
To the furnace
Of desecrated dreams

Where fine
And flourishing deeds
All languish by inferno
Splintering
My wayward hopes

I’ve become
What was forewarned
The slow, unraveling
Of iron will

The generous spool
Unwound into havoc
Sprawling madness
As fear
Gallantly, rages on

Panic Eclipses

The fumes rage on
In their joyous
Daily prance

To the tune
Of juvenile unrest
In the wreckage of dreams
Hastily
Cradled to their sleep

As the psyche tremors
Spiraling
With reckless passion

And I wade
Through the hours
Tarnished
Eclipsed
By tussling fear

The Slow-Wheeling Fable

I am
The slow-wheeling fable
Of certain decay
Of depravity, run amok

I hold
The boundless scream
Charging the helm
Of shadows
Arcing
And swollen with death

Stagnant
In fear
These organs
Slave in spite

Wired
Forevermore
Until these fraying roads
Spill
Into a constant
Baying dusk

A Daydream’s Fury

I am cared for
In a daydream’s
Sprawling fury

As a frail
And floundering
Desperate fawn

Latched to its whim
Devoid
Of a pulse

Never, to part ways
With their gathering
Fog

All too soon
In these hapless years
I forge, my home
In stagnation

Never drifting beyond
These withering paths
As comfort burdens
My wanting treads