#tepwrt

Passing through the fake elegance of a sublime landscape under the magnetic reflection of madness I try to outwit time time and time again as the yellow melting moon drips like the yoke of an egg into the inky blackness of the sea where deepening shadows are just memories lying in cold caskets where hearts once tormented with longing now lie still. Not like the wild hair of an escaped convict blowing in the soft wind charging through a field of luminous pricks on a summer afternoon that never ends. Speeding away from death's tremendous weight accompanied by the violent scream of a saxophone and the rollicking boogie-woogie of a blazing piano. Uncoiling clouds of different shapes and colors changed the horizon as my mind spins like a mirrored ball hanging from the ceiling of a discotheque. Like the gleaming eye of an iron eagle perched on top a flagpole with all the steeliness of a gesture as pointed as a blade. Who was it that was gently weeping behind my wall? Was it the one that I had searched for scattered among so many others amongst beads of pearly ejaculate and dirty roses? I believed that your sleeping grace had fled without telling me and was now roaming other skies. I shall plunge you into my verses from which there is no possible way of escaping. Come down from the skies where you wander. Free the song that is lodged in your throat. Let's fling open the curtains of the night with a fierce joy! Your grace over comes me and I turn away. The sweetness of your voice leaves me oh so weak the way it spills over your delicate lips and falls across my heart like an April shower.

Nighttime clouds scudding through the sky with such rapidity it seemed as if I were sailing through the air. Bright white orbs strung up against the blackness threw off a brilliant fire from somewhere away back in the distance. The walls became dim shadows of trees and I was plunged into the inevitable sadness of the night. Where desperadoes long for deliverance from the pits of hell where the brutal strings of violins torture and sting. I go through days in a dream. The reveries of enchanted hours come back and I am lost once more in the violent repetition of a crime. Caught up in the landscape of an impenetrable masterpiece.

A crazy mixed up perilous orbit of skulls inside the eye sockets of a golden brown child led to a crackling fiery staircase. Lift the tiny eyelids of a dead little girl and witness the cold depths of a motionless sea.

"The purple moon of August bled blood thicker than ocean foam, a cloud appeared in the shape of a rose"