Panic Albums

I

(October)

Beads of sweat trickled down her temple

Shortly, this action was accompanied

By a series of rough, jagged sighs

Each beat rippling rather violently

Just lounging upon the cusp of panic

II

(January)

The clocks continued ticking

As if all was right with the world

Disgruntled, she resigned.

Sheathing each young light

From polishing panic

III

(Present)

Washed away with snow

So was the fire brick sunset

Suspense not a moment still

Passing Clouds

Shut out all colour for a moment
Concentrate to embrace its absence
Now imagine if your existence was probable
If you were simply a soundless cancer
Just coursing beneath streetlights
Until that spot of microdeath
Blackened your blood

Recall an earlier chapter of your life
Upon which page were you last livid?
Please probe this memory in depth
Hurts doesn’t it?
That’s the byproduct of animosity and fear

Retreat! Allow the psychotic nature
That is this awareness to dissolve
For it is but a passing cloud

Continuum

Darling, awake to all that your daring eyes
Have long since missed
Draw forth a silent, sharp breath
And speak of its strangely taste

“Do you taste of love?” I asked
“No.” she says
“Is a sense of fulfillment acquired?” I asked
“No.” she says

At the climax of that single syllable she froze
Her speech had begun concocting distorted patterns
Of a truculent manner

It was thought that we were to exist as a singular unit
To become one with essentials before suppressed
To evolve from the passions we attract

I then asked her
“What event might have caused such a disturbance?”
She simply responded
“God.”

A.M. Escape Art

The A.M. has happened upon us yet again
Sunlight ascending; spreading poems
Humans walking, working, speaking
In tones that illustrate such elaborate effects
Often considered a form of the art of escapism
Dreamers, thinkers, doers, poets,
Artists, ballerinas, actors, singers,
All masters of escape art
With every venue they inhabit
New shapes are concocted
Each day, each task, is a performance
Although exists not an audience
Seemingly because we escape
Opinions matters not to us
Hell, I just escaped for the moment
Would you like to escape with me too?

9th ☽

Safety wasn’t a brand of quarreling

For it was known that I was of infinite value

Sudden circumstances in the moment
Establishing rare hopes that weren’t previously held

How it was such an inviting risk
Disappointment was the making of fiction

I knew not of catastrophic probabilities
When cherished by such a caring creatures

Around my neck lies an emblem of my sincerity
To hold for multiple eternities

Now

A collection of valiant philosophies fornicate my cranium
Philosophies that mere earthlings fail to fathom

This desire to birth from such a complex asylum
A power not of the world of which you and I speak

Neither comparison nor ability can be measured
One can try but his efforts shall equate to nothingness

Man may take from it what he wants if he must
Although the return will be of a much lesser degree

Patience is but a fallacy
Now is a gift that shan’t compose contrition

On

It was there
In the pinnacle of that darkly moment
From within all sectors that comprised the universe
That years and years on I had yet to know…

Its secrets were embellished in fancy lettering
Skyjacked by great shock I was
Before the effects consumed my well being

I scrutinized the shape of which I had taken
Finding myself that fully clothed within trench coat of riddles
To neither of the questions had I obtained the answer
Only a wink of desire