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
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