this farce of mine

if I had the world all to myself
as my own to decorate
to build and destroy
love and fornicate
i’d hang red curtains
where doors once stood
so every new frame you pass
would pass and reveal a new scene
a new universe
entitled to it’s own rules

I would have it all
overflowing and rotting
in excess of champagne and wine
have the hallways hanged
with gods stolen from
every brokenly worshipping shrine
have the walls
painted with colors of blood
or spring or winter nights
have the chaos unfold
indoors and under buzzing
flickering street lights

i’d have no rules but one
to break and torture
your own soul
own mind
fracture until no scaring line
stands even on your skin
lay awaiting for the daring blinde
to read the unspeakable
and to grant mercyfulliy
to the deaf their speech

In my world
I would paint smiles
on gravestones
slay poets
in the yard of the rotting skin
feeling sorrow for the divine
and haunt those in peace
those who ran out
of the fateful fading
thinly laid thread
celebrate a vivid feast
to the caress of empty orbs
staring down full lipped wine
waltz around in empty vaults
to the euphoric bliss of grief

I would have gold litter
borders, walks and
would lay empty
forgotten, forsaken
fearing the brave and the lost

people never wandered
they would linger like the shadows
in the corners of our eyes
hazed, bleary, insanely occupied
while flying without wings
and painting pictures in the skies
drowning over and over
in the storms that collide
from plush perfume
to sensual motionlessness
and the winged blessing
when daunting dreams leave you

in this world of my own
we’d rot away
both vibrant and dull
covered in riches and poison
pulls barily beating
to the staccato of our hearts
lungs fragile and full
breathing life away
drunk on the idea
of creating a world of our own
a world that would stand
every cunning sin of man
every zealous wish
from sweating nightmares
to sweetly scented bliss