CARCASS WEIGHT

A stranger baked before the suns would set, For miles my path was drawn with inks celestial, Broken scales forged in serpent scented spoils, My horns lifted in hour glasses ancient when, Nothing was. I could jot and jot some more, But a canvas to i is not limited to where i paint, And again i am but poise, meditating. All tongues fading like smoke in the wind, This i knew a decade before, You are but dead weight, Unpublished never were in my encounters. My inner power lense is juxtaposed, Three Angel line aligned to i lexis, Leave unseen wings to the eyes that can catch them.