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Poem

Fire lust of the angry clouds doth cover envy
To fork the stars upon my ever-changing view.
The crestling being i endure to hold of many
Foreign thoughts to translate a bonafide rue.

Carnival of lights leave me starstruck
In a haste no more than that of my gloom.
No one who knows of this life are stuck,
In a waste of bittersweet cloves that bloom.

As I sink down to the combers of lies
Nevertheless leaving my soul to him.
This monster of foreign carnage dries
To a crisp, no longer able to freely swim.

Finally feeling a soft touch upon my flesh,
Where is this pale longing rose of red I dread?
This flying repent of lustful notions is all I thresh.
Please let me fly with you in this land of the dead.

Denies of my request shows to me how I feel,
Still though, carrying me much higher and higher.
This resentful flock of gloomy encumbers peel
My skin I weary of angry clouds doth burn a fire.

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