Lusterless, the words twisted on the page and slowly filled the writ’ with rage,
desiring grander intricacies between those words and thoughts,
between the found and sought,
betwixt the sympathetic and the visages they wrought.
Recluses obtuse in the use of the spruced,
drank juice and hoped that the world would deduce
dalliances deliberate in the daily aspirations that had been met with cessation,
for sanity, though that eluded too, when on those actuations in his memory on still he drew,
clueless, careless, crafting conformity in cajoling quarantines,
more than sees, explored the seams, ceaseless in their seducing sorrows,
and in the space between them he had sought surcease to borrow.
Hallow harbinger with hollow bones adorns the pallid bust above the door,
he’s left it all alone, as beyond the door he roamed, driven to seek it evermore.