Nightmares Of I Poem by Richard Weissman

Tear soaked pages fray aesthetically, drawing bittersweet paradox of breath,
Of reverent in-breath - child-eyed, humble and awed,
Of harrowed out-breath - gnawed-empty, clutching desperate, despised.
Your verse, white blinding in brilliance, obscures formlessly,
with cold-ghosted passion, eerily,
Your terse intensity of glance hints luminosity,
Betraying shamed nightmares of I - insecure, jealous, a seeker of fame.
And the creamed pastel skylines unfurl crass surfaced visions,
Coaxing Narcissus to abide,
Plying as a suitor with celluloid mythos, 'til oceans are mirrors of love,
But your terse intensity of glance hints luminosity,
Betraying shamed nightmares of I,
And each measure of breath pales by your legacy,
And with every word painted, measured breath shortens,
'Til mercy births her pale horsed rider,
Betraying shamed nightmares of I.