Do tell me why I cannot stop this suite
With you in my staccato reverie;
Why I cannot hear you in memory
Yet feel the phantom throb of poison, sweet.
Do tell me why we share a tryst so fleet,
One that should not exist in memory
And won't leave my confetti reverie,
Affixed, dissonant taste, and yet elite.
No matter what, the charm I must resist.
A dream gem, powerful regalia?
A potion hexed, addictive malice kept?
A living dream, a shapeless drowsing mist?
A declaration of Battaglia,
The true purge of deceit, I shall accept.
YOU ARE READING
The Mind's Pursuit of Indefinite Intentions
PoesiaA collection of poems from the haiku, sonnet, and ghazal forms written for as a foolish quest to bleed randomness into meaning and back again, just like this description you are just reading. In other words, this anthology constitutes my exercise in...
