They called him wild although he hardly spoke.
Remote to them to breathe electric air.
He moaned in thought before the plastic broke.
A soundless pressure wound too tight to bear.
Each toy held codes he opened to translate.
He was not mean but simply born to ask.
No answers came from objects he’d ablate.
Limbs scattered wide aft each intrusive task.
The remnants piled in corners of the room.
In silence, as in graveyards of a kind.
On shelves lie things he swore not to inhume,
but questions still move restless through his mind.
At night he dreams of limbs and twisted wire.
Not wreckage, but a map of his desire
Chrysanthemum whispers
gird clouds of winter.
Frost spells inhume heart
deep into the valley of silence
Loud and mournful poesy
scribbled the souls
enchaining the last rays.
Misty dawn shone owing
to shades of night
And My Daffodil awaits
for the shades of blush.
Neptune will cry for our death
Fragments of sea blood
Temblor of regards
Condolences from Poseidon
Exhaling ciaos, inhaling mists
And all else Jupiter, once more
All yellow bleeds fire
None could inhume his dolour
Grams of sorrow, forcely collected
Twining clouds and forming seas
Autarkic trumpets would sing
As colors received by Uranus
Far you go
You ask me to come near,
You walk alone and quiet
You still try to reach me here.
In the words I write
You know I find you in me,
Still you will inhume
I know you are lonely without me.
Far you go
You still try to see me close,
I hear you to whisper
When I write about you in my prose.
In the rhymes I recite
You know I feel you speak to me,
And there when you read
I know you are lonely without me.
Far you go
You still try to smile with me,
I hear you to cry
When I ensure you are hiding behind me.
In the fate I bode
You know I quest for your company,
I walk with whose shadow
I conceive that to be your imagery.
In the words I write
I often speak to you only,
And now when you are reading
I know you find me here only.
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