Glisten behind mirrors of tinted moon,
hopping from one star to the next -
Ink drying upon vellum worn,
faithful men of hope begin their journey long -
Thoughts diminishing, verses turned too soon,
sculpting crumpled mountains, fears long and convexed -
One after the other, lines ripped and torn,
another lyric stolen from my souls grieving song -
Fed from my muses' rustic spoon,
words dart in and out, perplexed -
Rebirth of memories, therefore, newborn,
forgotten lullabyes twirl into shapes oblong -
Spitting into your bronze, wrinkled spittoon,
inkwell over-flowing with pride and flexed -
Gather your assets, pour from your inkhorn,
prepare to be a part, to always belong -
Seduced by desires of quills immune,
searching through my mind, confusing and indexed -
Today, we mount against failure, no more to mourn,
travel with me as we converse, within pages furlong -
















thats not it (._.) NNnnnnnn







46 old applause
