Temple

what a beacon shineth bright! with fledging wings beating tirelessly with holes in the heart wanting to be not in pain. an ache that lingers till the dust

spats. hisses at the damn book rigid. hard wires bound wings wanting to flap, can't from a stiff necked immortal unchanging, too bad really when a devil's delight can persuade a third of stars to vanish

the fire that was like wet blanket on my face - because i said it so. singed, with red burns all over i rolled on the ground playing with lady bugs

i'll elbow you out of the way said the strong to the weak - then make up for it by throwing a penny as a consolation prize. i'll be pushed out when a tidal force

what is it? try to feel around a curve ball - shooting past into a warped mind cluttered with many unnecessary folders, littered with tons of memory confused with the reshaped story sweet like the first ice cream tasted, bitter like the first betrayal

balanced, having the best of both worlds to be both hot and cold, to slap, to pout, then claim to be a victim. get a prize for being under an umbrella, the sky rains drizzles of worry across a rainbow who

to float, to be. to soar, to be. to hurt, this me. to feel, this me.

when the morning star became truth north, a little nibble here and there to take a chunk more than the usual bits - then dressed as stars the eaters go

steadfast, brutal even endearing, a spine - reaching outwards, touches the moon empty from longing to be an inferno radiant then blends in with the night sky, of hollowed out suns distant, unflinchingly cold,

stained. corrupted, rejected from a drifter searching for concrete, proof, validity, now and the maker plays not the games of creation, funny though that is how tall the tale is.