Periodicals in E Minor

The point of intersection,
Between delusion and faith,
A nomad in the city,
Drenched with the blood of sainthood.

The wayward motion of the stars,
Keeping time,
A convoluted conversation
Between you and I.

My melodramatic centrifuge;
Perpendicular with the sunset,
And plastic trees recording the weather.

My own and only
Underneath the skins of time;
Bequeaths a lightened load
As Sun ceases to shine.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s