Apostate, apostrophe?
Faces in the crowd?
Scenes in plays, dramatic be!
Bury deep, O shroud...
Queens of high end greatness?
These exist, but are rare.
Golem, gold. Take thy best guess!
Could be anywhere...
Fair? Life? Dance upon my knife!
Hollow hills and strife.
Flickering like notes a-fife?
Raw roundabout rife...
Wife, thy furious temper-main!
Deep as ocean blue!
Vampire, best avoid that vein!
What the hell to do?
Lament? Over duress stark.
Cold core confuse call.
How indeed the day gets dark...
Placer soil of Saul...
What the heck has happened here?
What did I just write?
Prophet wisdom gets severe!
Fate, been feeling bright?
Light atop the high cliff face?
Hope for sparks apace.
Otherwise be-fevered chase!
Crushed in carapace...
Ride out the hollow hills, my corgi steed
Though your size is tiny
Your brave heart is almighty!
Like the dog sick in the streak of His sultry sun,
Like the cow mad in the muck of His molten moon,
Like the pig hung by the heels in the heat of His hollow hills,
Like the goat feral in the face of His foul fields,
Plan my funeral
for I, too, am vulnerable to a state of decay—
Sowing His seeds of misery in the pit of my belly,
cultivating blight within
Breeding plague inside me already,
watching as fresh rot sprouts before Him
Omnipotent is He, but so is He wicked
to make men mortal—
His power is sickness;
We are children of the grave, we must accept,
feeble beings of His neglect,
and when He commands for us to pay respect,
we live to die, we mustn’t forget
Crossed by the throne of Heaven, I took myself down to its early night.
The clock was low over the mantle.
I saw it but that twice.
I felt the aching honor crossing, desperate devious plight.
Heartache became the truth of me, and the shadow was a name.
I knew for once, when hollow hills came to call with names, as gray as summer sun and bathing hearts.
I saw forever what was truth and sorrow.
I knew a name, an ancient name.
Dark hearts named him in an age gone arcane.
I saw his face carved from slate and a heart made from stone.
I knew his name, He knew mine the same, but yet did not look twice, that would make ends, but watched from afar and never knew my face, yet he could feel my breath under my voice, and knew me such the same.
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