Blind

Jaded by the juxtapose,
Violated by the stunted rose.

Masticated by this reclusive disease,
Neglected with questionable expertise.

Examined in credible contrast,
A dead hand of the neoteric past.

Lost in vacuous space...
Falling from a year of grace.

Bleed down to the driest bone,
by a razor all his own.

Phallic phenomenon of vile depravity,
Consumed exclusively by pelvic cavity.

And I find myself gnarled by love,
Yet another thing to be under the thumb of.

These hanging moments of naught,
disregard eloquent traces of thought.

I know you'll not change to suit my precious intent,
Still I am intoxicated by your provocative scent.

Consciously I lie awake and dare to dream,
risking soul and camouflaged self esteem.

For he is destitute of vision and sight
And no matter what I pen or write...

Nothing will make him understand or see,
that he was truly meant for me.