Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Fancy Fancy

I palter with desire.
I flood with flame, operating
My limbs like an aggravated sentinel.

The hourglass spills its sands upon a heap
And my thoughts dim into lascivious corners.

There is a certain pain in admitting...
But it is prismatic and fills the room with colors
I haven't seen in awhile.

I pretend away the variegated world
Until I am brewing in my own darkness.

I am a demon of my own making and not prone
To the angelic love that I assume I don't want.
I am a sharp toothed heathen, carnivorous
And hungry for hearts in a way unrelated to romance.

The fragments of time escape the hourglass
And leave footprints upon my face.

Soon I am emblazoned a traitor, a liar, afflictive.
I've made a quilt of apathy in which I hide.
I convince myself that I need no one,
But I've yet to convince myself of the same.

I walk the staircase, I walk the alley and
I walk the nighttime sky with stars
Winking at me like glittering eyes.

The rustle of leaves and the gossiping of the wind
Pushes me forward in thought and I wonder now
If I've evolved into something worthy yet.

1-9-12


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Fancy Fancy

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