lucaso

As I\'m Gone

Blushing under Dawn\'s innate chords

Orange-lip rapids convulse and swirl,

Constellations stream in their essence

Beholding prophecies in the shadow’s congress,

Partaking in siege\'s of tomorrow; 

Wings oscillate to the motion 

Of a frozen eclipse, peeling capped ridges 

Of reservoirs swollen with the reside of flesh. 

The violet bell tower rings and fills

Miniature suburbs with unrecognisable light,

Seemingly artificial, radiating layers vibrate

Through vortexes plated by a crowd you created.

Garlands revolving await for your touch (you’ll always forget),

Each one mistakes you for nothing but itself,

Eternally prolonged - a river’s current budding -

Columned with supreme vaults of autonomous reduction.

Forgetting our childhood dance with the Sun,

Our souls are burnt immanently. Thus a blink.

The rough medicine clogging boulders grooved by breath

Jitters lilies upon it’s dress;

An idle suit is forged by the Robin peeking through a thrush,

Each sweep of it’s feathered brush reproduces a personal bombardment

Of the senses desire to soften moisture\'s to ash —

Once immortalised by the Phoenix,

Symbols dissolve to the prestige of sanctified existences

Returning under the mane, or canopy, of infantile euphoria.

The heart remained as it’s soul was reborn;

The vessel contains nothing but itself.

Once returned, and still lost, you’ll presume the rite

Of following the one who develops copies,

A clone whom a key is thought,

Never speaking to the day ahead.

Beyond those tales and vines, violet reigns whip back the decor.

White flags are revealed and devoured into parcels;

pretty stubble\'s of light; faint songs recompose;

the boredom of memory seeps; rotten teeth glisten from a puppet;

creaks fade, coal-dried hands assert themselves to steeples;

seasons wrinkle as a certain faith begins to brood;

Comical Masquerades begin to compete in knowing their own fate!

Undoubtedly they’re here to delight your loneliness…

Once again, the basin oozes her luminescent organs,

Some hollow, some never before seen,

Each one shifting within the maroon mist of blood,

Endless swirls born from each prick

As if bound by the purpose of their pre-existence —

Forming a glazed ionosphere of acryl-electric

Over a globe cradled by a sleeping boy inside.

With the breast of Earth rising, the rubble of what you believed you’ve always known,

The heart lit, he rose to the intent of an artisan’s stature.

He had lost all innocence.

It may be relived through a normalisation of the soul -

Never honest enough to be regained, or forgotten.

The hare bares no cure within his bounce.

Basking in the solitude of your own infinity,

Revelation quickly curdles to revilement,

Your exertions are the result of the anguish of nothing.

Skipping past a swamp spotted with petals of sunlight,

A rose with a familiar bud inside,

You startle a man hanging.

Before you return, he outstretches all limbs to your throat.

All suits outgrown, leaping scents of duplicated summers

Unlock the cavern and cultivated chasms of ecstasy,

Fluorescent yolks stream from shaking shells;

With an ink inherited from a dream, you re-write the laws of your being,

Pioneering the way for revelations of embarrassment

And reconciliations abiding to the energy of idleness.

The plug finally ripped, a monstrous echo rumbles beneath your feet.