Juxt
The color of your insanity is pure as silhouettesJuxtaposed in a pit of cement and agile autumns
Mocking reality with an Oakwood staff, and
Casting an Elfish shadow on a frozen branch
Mourning the death of that which never was
Reality, A hex perched upon the adze of consciousness
Marooned upon an isle of spiritual orgasms
Waves like cinder, black as baking bones
Merry Making in the Frost of Fury at the state
Of truth and it's searching, the inquisition
Of objects parallel to "Righteous" and "circular"
Take away the oval and,
Leave infinity behind.
Poetry by Lazarus Knix
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Written on 2010-01-02 at 06:27
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