Thoughts of a Loner.

Chalice of Ninth Mirage. (By Sapphirus)

He drank to sequester time in shattered glass,
Each gulp became a labyrinth where echoes of forgotten sermons,
Subtle whispers of stained velvet promises entwine,
A chalice for a soul that craves it's own crimson eclipse.

He spoke with a priest whose blood stained collar bled allegories,
Trading sins over tobacco embers and truth half tarnished,
While silence recorded each cipher in lost currency,
Currency worth fortunes dissipated and secrets unredeemed.

She was a witch,
Dancing barefoot in the delirium of his reverie,
A spectral silhouette born from ancient rain and unvoiced elegies,
Her laughter a lexicon of seven indiscernible tongues,
Each word a riddle unravelling the self he scorned to be.

In the dim of a bar where libations donned metaphorical skins,
The elixir of "Recollection," offered solace in ciphered draughts,
Ice murmuring secrets of ghosted affections dissolving like fresh regrets,
Beneath the neon soliloquies of a night that never knew redemption,
Men staked futures on fractured parchment of dreams,
Where hope became a double edged quill,
Scrawled destiny in cryptic verse,
Each wager an incarnation of reverence interlaced with ruin,
While the cosmos traded kisses in tongue,
Kisses for sins in lost and untraceable dialects.

He inscribed wisdom on mirrors with paradoxical nails,
Scribbled epics in the anguished language of forgotten wine,
Each line became a heresy too profound for the bleeding dawn,
As the ceiling fan spun fables of Judas in tailored allegory,
Absence tasted of salt and liquor,
Of rust and doors of whispering prayers,
Laughter echoed as a riddle,
An edict from the very shadows,
Compelling him to mute the tears that fonts of despair foretold,
While he remained etched upon ruins unnamed and dreams deferred.

Within that void the chalice of whiskey emerged as his saviour,
As a lone oracle,
In a cathedral of forsaken choices and memories barren pews,
A riddle that cradles the universe in it's elusive palm,
He remains the enigma,
A graveyard of many Suns in perpetual dusk,
How does one toast the constellations when the cosmos itself is a cipher,
And the chalice of the ninth mirage unveils mysteries yet unsolved.

~ Sapphirus