It Was Never My Intention

an insubordinate social outcast

carved in the stone of a marrowbones' sheltered mind

in the aftermarth of a nocturnal storms' reluctance to perform

on the distant seas of an unopposed  retreat;

a platonic love with the heiress to my oil

as coils the rheumatic turmoil of a delayed menopause

settling its' wings deep into my shoulders of inept

and gathers together the frozen fragments of my snow;

in the distilery of watered gold

the hallmark on my skin crawls with a plagues lacklustre crawl

through a civil unrest of protesting unease

marching through the streets of my heart;

craving nothing more than silence

and a closed eye for the consumption of a bottled rage

like a caged rat having squandered its' chance of escape

so I sleep with a meadows dust in the company of wolves;

an insubordinate social outcast

bickering with the fluorescent tongue of a morphines twisted kiss

it was never my attention to detail

in the aftermath of my nocturnal storms' reluctance to perform;

it was never my intention that it should ever end like this;