Debris

If you gazed into my eyes, would you see-- the cyclones spinning with things once beautiful, now mutilated debris? If you listened quietly, would you hear-- the nightly gasping for air, where anomalies asphyxiate soul belligerently? If you held my hands, would you feel-- trembling, as I walked the edge of runaway trains, whilst tumbling down track one came? Acquainted with implications, wild inviolable compulsions-- would you save me, before I fell through the cracks of obsessive traps, laid by oneself so brazenly?

Vortex

When the sun slumbers, the eye of the night thunders open— leaving some ferocious and others encumbered. Perhaps these skies stay broken to expose glimpses of heaven, like half closed sills spill candle lit splashes through the cracks of the drawn curtains. Fragile like the lashes of dazed rebel, or wayfarers chafed by the serrated hand of the insomniac—were you wiping away the remnants of oblivion from face, or had you never known dreaming before this? Do galaxies commit a deeper complexity, leaving you to seek relevation through an elusive vortex? Like besieging charcoal vapors intercepting panoramic sights from archaic location—you boldly forfeited your disguise to behold miracles contritely, and remained hypnotized with me, at the infatuated footsteps of ravishing night...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]