The Gallery

I will find A center in you, The portrait, by My other side. I will listen To your words Manipulate my eyes. Aesthetically, it pleads To the senses Of My Mind. Now, I leave, the informed lies Of Life. Great Screaming Christ! Lazy Mary will deject all The elated, of our pathetic time. The mindless voice has spoken thrillfully, While death makes angels of us All. Unplanned, bound, In a strange Hour, A search for wisdom, lost to a decrepit flower. Did you know Madmen run our Prisons? Ignorance is A cheap drug, but, Who’s to say? I’m drawn into A concept of circles, Hypnotized by a Hugh of pale Meaningless Summer Colors. The strange voices we hear, coming From the center Of A Canvas… So Immaculate and sinless, Like A spell, A flower… Roads in hell. Or, The will to power. Smooth as ravens claws… It’ll draw you in.