Then, with a weak hand, he wrote:
‘I must stop dreaming, I am nearly seventeen,
To forge that grand old age bespoke
I mustn't rest in an evocation wisdom has yet seen
...
Condemned to the last subjective death,
Freed by the assessment of sorrow,
Frenzies of glass crystallise a breath
Preserving the final reign of tomorrow.
...
It turns out, and with all spiritual sincerity, I belong to the Eve of Starvation.
An infinity objectifying its own existence, I slaughter the opportunity of eternal nothingness, weaving flesh from a pendulum struck by a tear of lightning.
Everything tilts but never turns, seemingly capsizing without ever fully being sunk.
This rare moment we call the universe cherishing its own existence is pure negation.
...
Deprived of her depravity
She relies on for sanity,
She rips me apart so silently,
Crushed by the wind of her armed neutrality,
...
Only If I had the braveries of Dawn,
Where all is possible and all is seen
But I jump out of bed and arch in drowsiness
Putting socks, trousers and idleness all on my suit
...
The Earth I find
Is the centre of my mind;
Despite infinity
It shows itself to me;
...
I can no longer bare the thought of walking beside
Violet coasts inside caves without end; to coincide
With water, to give and repeal, give and repeal,
No longer seeking the suffering of what it is to be real;
...
The False Monarchy
Swamps the mind in acid gold,
Brewing in Merchants
...
Fractal machines, pisces nets unlike their mirrored
Spine hardened to a form of use, the burden creating uselessness,
Though by distinction to an idea of sound absolutely divine,
Mirrored by way of a droplet, untouched by touching clay,
...
Permeating silence's frozen dream idleness steals…
Blackness' Empress carves poachers from silhouettes
Pilgrims store in prismatic caverns, ever lasting the elastic static
...
And your vow splits onwards
As your wish hits the ground
And your scars stream forward
As silence bleeds out loud
...
If I left you today
What would you become?
Wish you knew how lonely
It is being the Sun
...
Amplify yourself to a hurricane, a voiceless stream.
Embrace without question the uncertainty of tomorrow
...
Infuse me with your essence
And fuse me to your presence.
Through this darkness our love is renewed
And wherever I'm lead, I'm always with you.
...
Manufacturer of experience
And the way you feel it
Receding, redeeming
All the avenues of being
...
I'd be a fool If I said I didn't believe
Everything I touch is just a place in your dream
Starship requiem, you're the love I receive
Heaven's cracked open, redemption on repeat
...
I guess I just want to share my bliss with you
It's bless in this abyss, there's always room for two
You're the world I awake to and fall through
As the sun forges night into something new
...
As the universe relapses into nothing more
Hold onto my heart as it collapses into your palm
Forever in the hearth where true love starts
Embrace each breathe I intake; here with you
...
I am Lucas Omar and Sebastian Amarti Manx- Booksie)
Virginal Boy
Then, with a weak hand, he wrote:
‘I must stop dreaming, I am nearly seventeen,
To forge that grand old age bespoke
I mustn't rest in an evocation wisdom has yet seen
Or in these recitals of trickery; on parole I tote,
Reclaiming a vision my brows set and clean,
To trim loft droppings that rise across Dawn's boat:
Is maturity merely the itches of what could've been?
Where by one must fashion a senseless coat?
Ah, I am naked and the lion struts his claws on sand so lean
On dryness breaking, pilgrimages waking: make weight of this half-skinned goat! '
The Father upturns his snout,
I have come to know the normality of kings;
The Mother crafts a decrepit pout,
I have come to enamour the stillness she brings;
The Brother is split by parting grout,
I have come to listen to the song my heart sings;
The Girl waves in her familiar stout,
I have come to hate the isolation of wings;
The boy remains untouched in a timeless bout,
I have came to immortalise these healed stings,
His hands are tired, but fated desire sees him out!
The hull of secondary thoughts conceit the sight,
Sunrise is left in a sprawling heat, a quivering mess
And shells of flesh dangle from the rouge clouds, an angel's delight;
Melpomene's indignation is configured in the sky's encompass
And I see myself in old age, perfectly bright
And full of abominable youth, so sly my age may be less;
Was the soil sewn breath? Ah, to bask like a virgin before the light!
As submissive as a druid, a blind man before lambs on warm grass
Thought not apart of it— I hired a play of performers in my mind and set them alight;
Throats and Lionskins ribbed the stage, the heart is ashes of carnal from a player's congress
And a manuscript is left untouched by a Playwright:
‘It's death in idleness, the fool's crusade of Dawn's height,
Enwrought in speculation. Resurrection has become a daily pass
And children are rendered thick with mane and fight,
Beseeching themselves for roars that would echo and confess
The liars present of stutter and blight;
Starving organs and lecherous loins grieve in chaste
And a dry-red-skin amphibian howls wildly through the night
Seeking the grove that would abort him from peripheral excess
And ethereal caress, that burns softly within his scalp chipped tight:
But, a naked boy flushed of any rage tugs at him through the looking glass.'
Now, with a strong hand, he writes.