Spells Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Twilight zeal the corridor of fragments
Justification with rites as empty as graves
I must back out
I must be spiritual
Take down the pile of stones
They are not the sacred mind
These rituals of mine waste the clock
Paths of the narrow pass

Emotions need heaven
They were married by a witch
Old castle walls with wind creatures
Lost minds in the cold spots
She wants an affair
My soul like a Viking winter
Prayer will send ambassadors
Free will is not always a knight

Her skin as soft as illusions
White felt danger
Who is she?
No rescue
The moon rises like a brothel
Feelings dissipate into the past
Lust - weak as a stranger’s funeral
Virtue overcomes these lapsing spells