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Unmarked Poem #2

Rakuyou of the Nimoire

By Patrick M. WegnerPublished 10 months ago 1 min read
unmarked poem #2, Rakuyou of the Nimoire

Milady, tis quite all the same. I will NOT beware. Life is not fair. Passion doesn't promise safety. This IS my art, to fang and drink from your heart. However pendulums fall later, it is my respect you keep, because it was earned. Whether you be a fairy or monster, when it's your ass in the air, as I rake my fingers in you, what I'm pulling is still just hair.

Silly woman, I change for no one, 'tis just it happens to be I am also broken; but whereunto it may concern kaleido-schisms, my layers have layers. Where you see shifts it is still wE: morendos of light, or dark soliloquies. Angel or demon, saint or snake, cut-throat or nobility, wE're not exclusively anything. I am just wE and our heart is big enough to encompass fractals of endless housing. Loyalty to experiences and moments is a price that tags you belonging to no reality.

I am my own moment and in me it shan't ever cease brimming. Join wE.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Patrick M. Wegner

I am a Malkavian that made it to ceremorphosis by accident; then I took my sweet time consuming the host implanted. I bear no prestige and no accolades. My only degrees rest in the spheres of passion, expression and ingenious stupidity.

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