Twisted tales of how you fought a dragon,
silver scales pulsating through your veins,
the beating heart racing through your mind,
its great wings an ice cold wind through your soul,
from its mouth the fire bellows within your skin,
the great roar screams through your spirit ,
writhing, serpentine body wrapping around your limbs,
run it through with your sword of enlightenment,
the clash of steel against its claws of devourment,
its magical, golden blood,  now your bitter nectar,
the battle won through a mortal embrace,
so raise your lance in triumphant accord,
but keep up your shield and remember the pain,
chasing dragons through the mist and the rain.

She came upon a white horse,
through those dark melancholic shadows,
her long black hair glistening under a blood red moon,
the paleness of her skin reflecting its caustic beams,
dazzling, beguiling,  she comes for my soul,
the fire from her eyes burning my core,
searching through the dark folds of night,
she finds me and takes my hand,
it sears, it burns but I must embrace this pain,
pulling me from the darkness of this rancid void,
her great black wings shielding me from the light,
I surrender it all to my angel of the night.

If I was to gaze into those eyes what would I see,
diamonds and jewels glistening in the morning dew,
blazing fire as they gaze into a crimson sky,
the blood red reflections mirroring your burning soul,
in such vitreous pools lay anchored ships of fools,
casting off their chains , setting sail to faraway lands,
ghosts that wander through the shadows,
moonbeams reflecting on a porcelain skin,
beacons through the darkness shining forth on rainbow shores,
there shall I seek my sanctuary until mornings new light.

1107

The Bird did prance—the Bee did play—
The Sun ran miles away
So blind with joy he could not choose
Between his Holiday

The morn was up—the meadows out
The Fences all but ran,
Republic of Delight, I thought
Where each is Citizen—

From Heavy laden Lands to thee
Were seas to cross to come
A Caspian were crowded—
Too near thou art for Fame—

1291

Until the Desert knows
That Water grows
His Sands suffice
But let him once suspect
That Caspian Fact
Sahara dies

Utmost is relative—
Have not or Have
Adjacent sums
Enough—the first Abode
On the familiar Road
Galloped in Dreams—

I pull myself
Out of
The
Inside
of the light.

I would rather eat every grain of sand
Off of every white sand - black sand beach
For a thousand - two thousand lifetimes
Than be anywhere near you or them
and to attempt and cough out every reason
Why I must do this and leave again.

There is not enough fire
On this God forsaken earth
That could come close to that
Inside of my heart and
My eyes will never close
Or come close to your mouth
As long as there is water
In the salty seas and as long as
That blackwater flows
Through the old oak trees. . .

I will never be inside of you again.

There won't ever be an end
As long as you keep adding more
And more pieces to the conclusion.

The story is over,
It's time to go to sleep.