A fair warning to those,
who care not repose
Father Time is less than kind
to those who try to test his might
A bother defying his sands of time
will undoubtedly leave one
frolicking with respite

A magician's trick;
the seconds tick
in a counter-clockwise fashion
In juxtaposition
with the ascension
of the sands in my hourglass passion

Its quite daunting to most,
this plague we call "time"
Not a moment goes by
I don't wonder why
I'm haunted by the ghosts
of things which I cannot change

Though its clear as day,
I can't make it make sense -
my inability to walk
backward through time

It's a sad fact of life
I'm unable to process
the clockwork of my conscience

F     R      O
                                      M
                ­                                  W
                             ­                           I
                                                               ­ T
                                                              ­ H
                                                        I
     ­                                            N
                                   THE
                 BURNING
BUSH
EYE
CAN
SEE
ALL
THINGS
*.

Intrusive thoughts
Enamoring fiend
Amidst an enchanting euphoric rapture
my apotheosis complex washes away
like knives to my throat
in a deluge of familiar burning healing

How I crave to abdicate Self
Oh unrelinquishing,
(r)
                          e  lusive Soul;
       (c)
Abandoning me to languish
In this castigating material existence

Slowly
                                                  feeling
My faith wavering
Withering                                                        
                                                  to the point
of nihility

Layer by layer
Shed my illusions
Shatter my Ego
So maybe I'll realize
Real enlightenment

Because I stopped caring for humanity ages ago.

If misery loves company
How can even I feel lonely
Alone to my thoughts
In a crowd of my peers?
Just keep up appearances ;)

You all look so oblivious with boxes over your heads...

Obscurely I yearn to be lucid
But instead am welcomed
by livid disdain

I just want to watch the world burn
An inferno; more ****** to churn
for my every advance she spurned
don't object my grotesque romance
or squander it in a moment of happenstance;
rather, project a mental image by perchance
Of me pursuing an remembrance
of the past,
in the present; instead of looking forward
to the pen I wield in hand;
Dubiously proclaimed mightier than the sword