Framed From Afar

this exile takes place
from an ivory tower
vague apparitions
with faith entwined fingertips

phantoms evoking
a severance of heartache
dispelled by this wanton hand
ever unwittingly

leering at solitude’s
sanctioned reflection
as flesh-scattered ripples
abscond with reality

doorways predestined
lead might into dolor
if only this wretched husk
could quell their steward

flickering faintly
confined from afar
as a triumphant failure
forms scars of afflicting

where sadists will suffocate
unfitting masochists
frigid breath drawn
from the lungs of aloof gods

falls

sentencing sanity
framed by dysphoria
fragile like icicles
stranded in plain sight

the derelict denizens
long denied dignity
delve into depths
of a daunting undoing

willfully swept away
by waves of wintry swell
lost in a lion’s pelt
dealt the deciding blow

shrill piercing of the sword
bequeathed of heaven’s bane
quilted depictions
sew scorn into looming sloe

Author: Max Meunier

Feminist. Ailurophile. Musician. Poet. Human.

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