(Hello all. I hope you’re well. Here is something a little different for you. It is part of something much larger and in progress. Please let me know what you think. Take Care, P.)
Long hours turn today into dust and bones. A naked re-imagining of classic narcotic lust. I was addicted to little more than the tone of things to come. Lie after lie. I wondered how to save grace among other lives than the ones I knew could share my soul.
I emptied the space between the lines with the little peace I could, selfish and splendid. The way became ritual anarchy that touched the minds of Gods with little lost thoughts. Flower afforded acronyms of hopes and hearts, while her memories rolled with balanced thrill, impinging only comfortable existence. My own common sense kept the voices fresh. A little regret superfluously moved deep into grey clouds as I avert her gaze. Fixing it in glass memories of a stained world. As if out-of-date had somehow been our best before, ended in a feat of indignation. What was I supposed to do?
Watching those storms come in I pondered the magnitude of endless discovery. We found each other through the excavation of promises. New hearts that formed the circumference of life. Pixelated with microcosmic emotions that fashioned the perplexing nature of humanity. The complexities of human interaction.
She rose in petals that flashed formality. Simplified thoughts that manifested the classic class syndromes of earthly beings, epitomised by a pledge made to look down on all those who showered lust and love into cascading heavens and hopeless will. Stifling advances with prowess only worthy of ageless sirens. Bringing all in her wake to rocky waters. She thrived in the wreckage as pirate queen, whose galleons sailed and conquered each individual dream, leaving shrapnel embedded wherever her blinding gaze hit.
And I? I had become a devil long before those storms washed the nasty little conformity’s of lies and lust upon my broken bow of desire. Hurt and crushed with calculated frolicking. What blood stained sheets I have left with victims who’s innocence was all I had relished when first my eyes fell within their worlds.
© Phen Weston 2015