lain dormant

patiently

do souls divide

devised upon eclipsing faces

clasping
onto coils
collapsing

glimpsing
into prismed stasis

prisoners
of implied perspectives

wardens of a will subjective

wallowing amid the irony
subconsciously neglected

dubious
in their discretion

predisposed to predilection

pondering
when they will fall

from mother earth’s inbound reflection

writhing
through the undulations

wrought by mortal trepidation

endless existential crises
leading life to deviation

searching
for their own salvation

destined
for dissemination

any worth they deem
is but an arbitrary affectation

barbaric
by incarnation

paradoxical creations

bounded by the crux
that is the crutch
of their idealizations

phantoms
of a flesh-bound station

failed
by fear’s indoctrination

nothing
as it seems
will mitigate their wrath
of ruination

not even self-flagellation
could absolve them of their own sins
solely by the merit of the fantasy
of their creation

luckily, for mother earth
their reign is but a fleeting moment
far beyond the fervid fears
which humans are so wont to foment

every species truly is a stowaway
destined for torment
on the mothership of looming death
we are as dust lain dormant

our depart

remember
that somber november

whose air

sang umbral abandon
when nigh

your words
were the ember

god’s semblance
did spark

with aril,
this ruinous heart

the stoic did tremble

in silence, we cried

our world
now awash with despair

and those who had watched
from their crumbling spires

knew nothing
would cease
our depart

tenuous devices

o zinnia azure

have i awaited

on this shore, forlorn

ebbing
in the fading flow

of fleeting sways
no more

shifting
slivered beams of light

adorned our flesh

with lips immured,

its passive adulation

kissed with scorn.

the lines did yearn

for tempered reason

dearth dividing
us, its wrath

though nothing
would forewarn

of weeping skies.

there we stood

the air, impending

propped on painted panels

as the precious
pretense
pooled
beneath thine eyes.

now was then
the past
conspired

thy petals
turned to frigid shades

assembled

in the midst
of Eden’s garden.

torn
between diverging dreams

two tenuous devices
tethered

drifting
from the lure
of looming argent.

pillow thoughts

i close my eyes
and see the stars
burn bright

like ghostly spires

summoning the scenes
soon cast
to thought

the wistful sear
of ceremony

fraught with seas
of sentiment

the present’s
mirrored presence

a mirage

the pin
pricks of the erstwhile
ways

we watched

awash with sorrow

whose poignancy

was spurned
and spent for naught

afforded
by the looming morrow

latent
with lament

as the pillow
wrests my head

to see us
off