Life is not enough, like strung out on promises, lavish upon a curse. Oh’ melancholic artists, fiending for one in tears. Those darkened skies, wishing into a daze. Miles to excellence, underestimated, one dream in its needs; abused beauty, sanctioned swords. Forbidden crops, devastating harvests. In loving rain, in its exploration, exposed to elements. Show us the Great Entrance, aside those wired gates, next to a fence near an alley. By a backdrop, on a backstreet, so casual how it’s executed. And Soul was dying, one furious explosion, impassioned, thrashed, cleaving to guts. To have adored in vain, so glorious by verse, aching to read one final behavior. Perfected by loses, merrily in chaos, to assume there’s more. Those days eyes pierced veneer; those winds on a sunny morning; at times, it’s hard to believe in fate. Everyone desired you, a few made excellence, such dying to align an inner whisper. An exposed winter, jasper evenings, jasmine lining. By a ghostly glance, gusts & leaves, webs & gossamer. So right to love you, so wrong to try you, with days to execution. So galvanized, like galloping, knee deep in pash—as luminescent souls, abandoned to time, until it stops ticking.
