Diary of a Madman: Aphorisms, Maxims and Allegories
by, 02-13-2009 at 02:10 PM (1619 Views)
The Heavens descend in the form of tragedy...
And I ask too much of the wounded.
Bell shaped curves, rocketing back and forth, circumnavigating droplettes of sweat -
Straight on, to the more angelic features of a dream.
We lay breathless, wordless, in a four-walled world of promises,
The chasm, a head held high, a strategic absence of held-hands and ribboned boxes,
opened further by our nonchalance...
Poetic picture frames, and candelabrum, and that clevery unidentifiable shade of Red...
Like prophetic sign-posts,
to the alter of last kisses,
and the gods,
of cold, sunless, summers -
We shift in unison, upon the embers of yesterday
Each waiting for the other,
Each glaring at the spectre that is the clock on the wall -
The best lit Fiction, in the room...