• As the measurable less,
    indeed the past is a blister;
    singing and waltzing with laughter
    in this bloody, battering misery.
    But for pleasure, chain links are bent
    and the irony snapped,
    rusted, shattered as glass, laid as pieces
    in a caroling cherubs palms.

    This is the moment which is mentally dared
    in a place where diffrences are shared.

    These streaks in discontent
    upon the wet stretch of red
    bludgeon the rye of raw emotion,
    opening the void of possesion.
    So for pleasure, claims are rent
    and yet solemnly wrapped.
    Are the watchful white walls in their fleeces
    welcoming the misfortunate calms?

    This is the moment which is mentally dared
    in a place where diffrences are shared.