Wanted: Queen of Stars

(Prelude) A practicing hermit comes ‘board the train— "Faux Pas Degenerate’s the name." The sundial dust of a spider on silken words retires; Easy now with walking ‘fore the secret slips out: Desire. "Paranoia: witch’s brew. All the nights that don’t eschew the voice within that won’t be silent— though if it could, it would be violent, and violet and blue, and other colors bestowing rue, such as onyx heart, maroon sigh, and forlorn lusterless copper good-bye." ___ Wanted: Queen of Stars, above Rooftops and Reason. Crumbling old stone is the image of life, destroy the blood weather and along with it strife. Kill her kill ‘er killer killed her needed her money makes the world stop— sorry about that. I once felt Reap coming for me and the warmth of summer caressed me glacial. We once perceived gorgeous black in its natural state and entombed within was that lone tear of Captain Ahab. I eat Desire and churn out mistakes, then hop on the road and become the Scarecrow fated to be a sun-dried corpse reintegrating, sweet-smelling, exhibiting as a '95 screen shot transmuting. The rain spatters upon the window-pane like kisses you wish would corrode that skin— it’s an actor’s life for me. Is there a feast for this host? Yes I say it’s fine we’re always fine people knife eyes, dandelion eyes; frozen cries in absconded brine. After the fact? After the opinion, wishes I, for karma is dead, and Ah, look, there’s the man-made tornado! If only Midas were here, I’d stand golden forever, but will You stand by me as the elements melt? Wanted: Queen of Stars. Will sell own soul just to glimpse the moment before the world blackens.