Solace Lane

Globules of ambushed terrors,
Enamored sadness of a gloomy night,
Gently trickling luminaries of irresistible disappointment,
And a fleeting vanishing hope
That encountered its death in lonely asphalt

Tlick, pluck, Tlick, pluck
A soft misconception of your arrival,
The various witnesses and an illuminated path
Of the brilliant lack of your presence,
While dripping humidity enraptures my essence

Mingling substances, bitter and neutral peacefulness,
The lonely journey down an angered check through
An arctic neck, laying its bitter seed down crimson lane.
Baptism, I am reborn in pain.

A white vanishing smoke evokes from my choking mouth,
To the frivolous indifferent air. It swells and puffs and grows,
Till its intricate form, inter-webs with the layered skin,
Of the opaque colorless air, which dares infiltrate my clasping lungs
Providing sweet, clutching life.

Dare not smile, each twitching muscle convulsions
To the rhythmic night air of the pitter-patter of liquid loneliness.
Dare I see, the falling tears? Each an everyone enters my pupil
To my flaring gaze of anarchist bitter comprehension.
May I sir?
As life takes me by the ankle on a grouching tarantella.


Beat, Stop, Beat, Stop, Beat, Breath, Stop, Beat!
Choke, the vapor does not leave these clinging breasts.
But adheres to the stoic lines of membrane thoughts,
As swift electric jolts rapid to my breaking neck,
And through nature’s calming substances, my shoulders unwind.

My heart aches,
Father,
Nobody,
Father,
NOBODY,
Father,
My heart aches on solace lane.