Vapours

“I am a lover without a lover. I am lovely and lonely and I belong deeply to myself”. – Warson Shire

Nay maybe it is something else, a trait of narcissistic crust, from one who gloats about one’s shame. That ascribes a greater tone to pain. Aghast the pleasure of the life that is feral, the difference that shocks, is hidden in your veins. Come out, come out, awake unto life, faint not at her kisses, it is not a vice. It is not a vice.

Consume, consume a fire of dark, a midnight black that swoons the heart, come cup, come up from salt tilled soil, a highway from the sin that coils. That dearth of time when all is gone the cutting starts, to feel at all. A stranger’s mask, not strange no more, from your own mirror, the ides do fall. For on to air, for on to sea, this road this path has no reprieve. For light has come and went by fast, obsessed with grief you let it pass. This is my all you sometimes cry, like a town crier whose tongue is tied. For ribbons black they fall all too fast, you bind your arm with them, as if to fast.

Reach in, reach out, no grasp is left, of where to drive no known by pass. Into the years of bitterness, where all is false remembrance. For death to you, is death as known, from day to day, it is known as home. To brood and spite for losses lost, to expect your soul is at a cost. To hide in shadows by gray walls, to say with no tears you gave it all. To just one person, just one cause, alas the wearisome of it all, be still thy eardrums, they hear not at all. A tiresome gloomy loss does call the hand so limp will not pick up at all.

I would but try to ask you to breathe, to feel the purpose of which you believe, but alas, you feign, the weight of it all. The body not willing the spirit does fall.

Drop gracefully then or drop not at all.

Nay maybe it is something else, a trait of narcissistic crust, from one who gloats about one’s shame. That ascribes a greater tone to pain. Aghast the pleasure of the life that is feral, the difference that shocks, is hidden in your veins. Come out, come out, awake unto life, faint not at her kisses, it is not a vice. It is not a vice. – 07.07.0218 – דָּנִיֵּאל