The Isles.

The isles of wild and green.
Sing the bliss; unseen and knowing.
I will walk the halls knowing and known.
Stone the citadel and wind's lark song;
A narration upon the sights unseen.
Not to me in a place of green waking.
Through the isles of paths seeing.

Cold, moving, still.

See Lightening

Don't look, don't hold. Your all that's left as the future comes before the storm. Don't think about what you are and why you promised to run. It won't be the same. Whatever you do, don't look. It's not an action without chaos and I breath it like air. Hold back! Hold back! why do I care. The season can change and has done too. It's a waterfall without hitting the lake, an arrow into a void. Don't hold back . We're all that's left and I can't wait to begin.
Something moves and there's nothing to hold it so lets go before it bests our will.
Can't you feel it in your blood? Ambition, sugar, sensation and several more trinities of inner fire packed like ammo and worn like armor, but it won't keep us down just far away.

A Series of Events

She has a kind mind
Like the fashion of the sociopathic.
Lighting queen; she's fantastic.
Miss I missed your fist
Stare down into a jack-o-lantern eye.

She can run the rounds
Etched, empty, in the night.
She and they are in sanctuary of virtual space.
Only space for their glamorous taste.

When you find kin in a world of your own
Then you are not alone.

The Hills

The earth runs deep in the skin of a god and so they say.
But all is quit now: bondage, blinding, beneath us.
Sums of summer past the days far away it will be gone
The moment we wake up and the wind simmers water
We could have drunken is not for the ill ambition
Of an already entitled intelligence weather it is lacking but not so bold.

The faux meet in the over hanging of a citadel; plaster and desperation
But they say it is sold as boredom creeping and over flowing into
The night, not what we expected but for now I see you and I picture
The vessel that died over and over until we met in the over pass.
A death for all that is greater than the peace of slight apathy.

Design

I have an eye for design.
I see the crack that runs down my mind and shifts the beauty of my soul into an ugly shadow.
It runs down from compassion; warped, faded. Breaking the human pattern.
I know the wrong colors in my words
I know the ugly streaks that blemish their strokes
Cruel, Desperate, Delirious.
I know.
I know how watered down they are and laced with lead
Haunted for becoming a master piece.
I have an eye for design
I know what I wear as I flaunt myself in the gallery.
So many people.
Some mediocre works, but they will never be as damaged as I.
I know the audience avert their gaze and the insightful may grimace.
I can do nothing, but don't insult my skill
From what others have vandalized.
I see it all so clearly
So much more than the casual viewer.
I have an eye for it.