Beyond this
wood, music is a blur.
Time clouds
the sky quietly,
Undertones
and translations from messenger drummers
Thump for
sobriety dancing away.
The airing
of subtle flames begins,
Idle paws in
my dreams clawing
A suicidal
monkey floating adrift my blank page -
A letter of
collision with my youth dripping from my finger.
A broken
steed, tender hair and a burnt trap
Found me a
stranger's spiritualized heart;
Walls of
time and mystery of souls erased -
Guided me
into this mesh, with a steady pace of an old mind.
What porter
of this night's spell wavers extinct songs into my spilling mind?
What night
comes on the backward path dressed in rags and words of winter's light?
What
corridor could reason give for escaping the unknowable breaths of ghosts?
Where are
the magic outlands, for the beast to roam?
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