Pieces of her half-baked lucidity
As I lips sing of songs bearing no syllables
She responds with irksome silence
Why is i simple language
So foreign to thy prowess ear?
Majesty of stars and skies
I behold, living in galaxies while
Sleep walking through Milky ways
A place where i reincarnate
Into scrolls dusty dripping with gen
You deem I insane realizing not that
A million light years of blind faith
Stand between you and i
I am but a product of ultimate altars
Usually at first light I carry
Burning candles of I passion
To commune on fresh dew
Why never do you see that
Thy sedated state of mind
Never is a guest welcome
You pity the artiste in i
Made of thick ink and paper
You try to awaken a dead crown in i
All a while, you were blind
To the one on I head
Do you not see that thy breasts
Tame not the painter savage
Have the nine moons not revealed
Carcass thoughts you foppishly worship
Your dream to pacify I instinct
Dwindles when dusk yawns
You are but a
A puppet to white shelves
A dress wearing a pair
Of male trousers
Alas!
Reduced to a pencil drawing
Left to dance in the rain
Calmly
With a pen and pad in I hand as
I tread upon sea shells and sands white
The wind shocks away
Ashes of thy fleeting memories
The time next
Wink but carefully
For you are nothing more
Than a fiction to the beholder
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