Dragon Chasing
Quickening
breath draws musk into
inferno lungs.
Alabaster
powder, white lines
of release
decompose realities hold.
Dense illusions
slide from the mist
to serenade lost time.
Lucid, in sublime way,
yet; intentions obscure.
Dragons cinder
lays with silver spoon
it’s wraith, nothing now,
wisps that diminish;
absorbed.
Thousand places,
in a galaxy of trips,
warping through
fractured thoughts.
Glisten of nostalgia,
tug at corners of
the mind.
The “real” will prevail.
Epitaph of innocence,
on the wall inscribed,
in the toxicity of blood.
Iniquity defined.
Copyright © Colin Marschall | Year Posted 2006
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