Psychotic Pen

Picture a cynic unnatural manifested dream with no clues to where, when or how to escape into reality. I realized I could not dream me.

Youth portrayed. Words weighed to a formality with no extent relative to my world.

“I see a house”

Clouds nurturing fractions of illusive propriety

claiming me

to the inside of my bones

relent shiny privilege of no reality

descend depraved vanity

in it’s beauty sincere

lost with no reasons

pure, allured satin clouds climb into my house

I state to heaven tall

Do not tell me of my fall

I never earned your call

“I see a door”

House of the poor

desolate bewildered wild eyes sure

and astoundingly

an instant break of destiny

a passionate moment rare

I care

we share

a prospect of illusion

rains conclusion

“I see a woman”

“You must be of my dreams,” I say

“Open up the door you may,”

a colour of her red fair hair

compared of me a scare

as the winds walk the stair

singing “no dread of a pious pair”

sit do not fear

“I look into the mirror”

“What is it you see and can not hear?”

“A latter void you, my mirror, I don’t care”

and to the audience a rather mythic creatures true voice

is to them what I gave no choice

“I ask you mirror is it me they loathe?”

“you fool, they can not touch you nor adore”

“The audience looks at me”

A moments thought I hold you dear

I did not touch your inner lair

This house a sanctuary for my dreams

Is ruined in a dense cloud of steams

Seams no duty to perform

but learn the pictures of my lorn

“I see my room in a house”

What shadows foamed this invite

of demons down and of their might

nothing but the fire of my oven

these pure sparks of dared light’s coven

“Flames of infinite destiny”

“Dames of definite verity”

“”