The Parched Preacher Poem by Amber Luna

you came with your bible of dreams and preached wordlessly of sins and rewards,
patchwork clouds brushing against my cheek.your words in actuality always
taking refuge behind a screen, never revealing your stage name.
your iron tipped wings spoke of prophecy and your aura exuded ideologies.
the walls of defence raised in the name of names, painted pretty concrete,
rejecting the luminescent tree tops of your youth, which always was and yet
never.languishing manufactured brilliance that you could never call your own,
simply lacking the outsight, claiming internal ignorance,
distinctly distilled instinct.

sweetness sickened
ambiant aggression tilting the nerves