• I lost myself where eagles cry
    When did I die? was it never?
    Only perennial souls could say
    Molded of twilight atmospheres
    In a presumptuous decay

    Memories are dust storms
    Marking self inflicted wounds
    But choking only roses
    Celestial immortals coiled there
    Together in entwining poses

    This morality, my trickster
    He tracks each move with care
    Devil's dagger under his lips
    Trembling, so airless and damp
    Each move in me he rips

    I learn, nay, yearn from them
    Those stark and lone mistakes
    Traced in space delusion
    Caked on skin in layers
    Smothered by an isolation