No Feelings, Just Words

A cold lick on the back of the neck,

A stated intention, with intellectual invention,

Bold and slick with no lack of respect,

A fated relation, takes form through contemplation.

"These are my metal scars..."

With eyes that stab splattering hearts like art,

An imagination unbelievable, versed in the inconceivable,

The mind denies that it has shattering starts from the past,

An animation deceiving, the worst of its own thoughts unreadable.

"My wounds heal me..."

Flickering optimism faith’s wounded friend,

Peeks from a dark place, somewhere behind the stone face,

Tinkering solipsism in ways only brooders blend,

Bleak in a lost space, despair remains blind from old mistakes.

"These are the lenses of a hermit..."

Ideally unreal the dreams are the waking sorrow,

Dancing phantoms, to the music of flickering lanterns,

Appealing it seems judging by outcomes that follow,

Life as it happens, with all the promise of ugly looking handsome.

"My inside is a junkyard..."

Tampering with futures idle hands trip wires,

Unknowingly unhinging verity, questioning love’s brevity,

Dismantling excuses so that time itself misfires,

So slowly it tinges its own propensity, confusing longevity.

"My fingers ache to touch you..."

Forever now with all the charming tears this is how it has been,

Everything so ineffectually precarious, without a hint of the hilarious,

Whatever’s found disarming as it appears in every scene,

Always taking things so serious, the romantic Aquarius…

"I will always love you from afar..."


One response to “No Feelings, Just Words

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