The entertainment of it all,
kept me distracted,
from the growing pains,
twisted pill brains,
the mad hatter stains
on the carpet.
I'll find a way to groan all night,
slow dancing,
taking me away from the darkness
that suffers me and
seems to forever invade my vision
and sleeping patterns.
I can understand Oedipus gouging
his eyes out in weary wrath,
though there may yet still
be beauty to be found in the twilight,
with shivering and quaking
of our anatomies,
the energy frequencies of
fire and ice,
played by a traveling circus
speaking in tongues,
strong fiddle and much
vodka drinking and licking of spices
out of the air.
The gaiety may be
just beginning.
I felt a rise in the weather warning,
the Moon's even lurking angry,
The Women around me grow hungry.
We crave to be lifted out,
bathed in our own nights
of lust and light.
We ache to be fucking heard.
The desire rises to my teeth
to pump blood,
move my body,
hard pressed against yours.
To write the Machine down,
brick by brick.
If I must alone,
I will.
My muses and music may change,
but once I regain concsiousness
from the heartbreak of it all,
I engulf in flame
and start over.
The Phoenix weeps for me,
and I thank you for that.
Really strong write. So many of the references in here are painted very well throughout the piece. Love the way you ended it, I've always been a big fan of Phoenix myth. Really nicely done, thanks for the read
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