Ghost Towns of Memorae

Cast adrift upon the undisturbed avenues...


Disturbing old shadows, immune to noise
immersing themselves into
a ghostly refrain--
the post-modern exile of a dream-proof
asylum

This eye, a silver-gray color of expiration-
a measure of loss in each passing touch
of the sensual hour of breathes, coated in
frost curl and swirl only a moment, to
dance, naked upon earth and the grave
of days and the shuddering rail of
what fierce-hungers can be abate

Manac marionette- e'er taut emotions
strung o'er ebb and swell the
shadow and light of love and loathing;
adorn the cathedral heart with
savior and sinners-- neither of which
can be saved, even to confess the need
for what corruptions still have the ability
of cause without any lasting effect

Aphrodite's vampires that suffer unrest
haunt the churchyard & corridors of regret
suffer a prison of a flesh, for only
a moment of painful touch and a rush of
warm breath to fill the lungs--
the human scent collects
as an after-taste of dreams
grown more faint by perpetual memorae

What reason unwrought in shattering peals,
a damnation to be endured
rather than to lose every trace
of one's own connection to divinty.

Peace,
Po