Poetry Collection.

Untitled (IV).

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so sayeth the sooth,
that innocence is interwoven into the tooth
that is ripped in its youth from its humble domain.

a mass of rushing gum and blood,
bits of flesh in cascading floods,
and in them reside the stolen sane.

I lost that bone long ago,
around which the tumultuous floods were apropos,
and yielded to its rushing, churning charm.

so beg and barter for benevolence
and heartily curse thine divine intelligence,
wicking the wax and spinning the yarn.

indeed, know the soul bereaved
hath given to the conscious sieged,
over and over and over and over unto descending twilight.

so I'll take a healthy dose of cyanide,
or perhaps a slight serving of suicide,
and find refuge in the blissful finite.

do I know of keen nomenclature,
do I speak in owl's intricate ornature,
do I dare utter a single breath?

may it bury the burning sun tonight
and offer the mercy of mind's respite,
lest it wake to premature death?

betwixt mine juvenile yearning,
a nimble, wallowing wicker burning,
dripping down cracked glass as rainbow sorrow.

tread the fine line between pain and pleasure
just to thread the crucifying weather
and pray it slows in the cold, desolate rains of morrow.

what, then, of kings dethrone,
which beneath the mossy hollows groan
as ghosts of whispering weary, drear?

and such it is, such foreboding wake,
of glory and sully their insomnia spake—
is it not indistinguishable turn of prose, my dear?

o, a blessing be mine calenture
to outwit and outlast my misadventures,
the heat of my blood a felicitous savior.

thus the cortexes corrode into the slickest of oils
and beget my worth in the serf's toils,
my palms split and bloodier than hell's undertaker!

kindle the raging, monstrous fire
to ignite mine virtue bundled to pyre,
swallowed by ravenous, rancorous smoke!

inflate my lungs with airy dirt
so that I may speak around cobblestone throat
and beg and beg until I choke!

oh, weary, dreary, leery soul,
mind of ineffable, splendid droll,
ramble over and over and over, now.

can you hear the begging whimpers
over your deafening debonair simper,
the pride of which you proudly avow?

could I ever earn a grace
to pardon my morals' utter deface
and live the afterlife in recompense?

how sanity fluctuates with a sovereign quiver,
and how could I not vindicate heart's visceral bitter,
if its adversary exists in barren sense?

I know not of providence and mercy;
my love is quite the controversy,
and my tongue is tied in a double fisherman's.

be it a crevice to a chasm,
a twitch into a spasm,
a myriad of broken shards as a mean to an end.

oh, mercy me, and all of winter's subtle splendor;
a quiet grave to which it renders
my bed of royal pine straw and frozen dirt.

and so I plead with dying light
and fading breath and blurry sight,
to freedom and mirth may my soul convert.

heavy snow, a blessing it be,
a weight lifted from harrowing reverie,
to then be settled upon wit and soul.

oh, ephemeral stars that shift and twinkle in deep space,
if you ever scour past the grime of my disgrace,
leave me in the grave in which I am atoned and thus consoled.

tell me, dear, if the universe spins
just as quickly as a life can end,
and if dreams are as much of a scam?

deliver thine peace and slumber, now, deep into my chest.
don't let me leave a sorry man to be bereft berest.
and this,
and this,
and this I beg,
I beg don't let me leave just as I am.

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(November 28th, 2023.)

This is currently untitled, but that will change once I postulate a proper moniker.