Genevieve

I am the robed red-eyed rabbit iconoclast of radiant reverie I am socially inept and intrepid unfit for heaven left unforgiven in deevy eyes of Saint Genevieve beneath the ice of silence Genevieve dreams she's a rain, in need of a guidance beaten in Eden she's a runaway train I'm her perpetual crescent corrosion boorish reject of a stage play acting erratic a nightshroud in slow motion kicking the dust alive from decay Genevieve's mortal, whispering loud among the trees full of mysteries she is my sneaky nun with a gun and I'm her wayward terrorist priest I'm triple echo of violet velvet gliding through halls of a twilight manor I'm boyhood decorum held in secrecy silhouette left of former manners but Genevieve knows what's the matter it's a disorder of highest order feeding on heart pierced by the dagger