Flee, my Heart! Leave this vessel, a husk of metal- my Spirit sick!
Now! Depart! No Conscious wrestled, decisions settled- fingers pricked!
A map to chart, my tested mettle, deeply nettled- the wounds I've licked;
A Quest to start, the finest fettle, a boat of petals- please kill me quick!
Such Agony! To be besotted, tightly knotted- paltry sums;
A Felony! Memory blotted, Veins are clotted- Soul succumbed!
Lo! Verily, the Time allotted, eyes are spotted- gently strummed;
Terribly, the Gods have plotted- like Ghosts in Psychomanteums!
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet