No one ever said that the darkness of the stars
was the presence of a fair knight's
desire to kill.

So then I lay in bed thinking if my first kiss.
With tentacles drawing me into delirium,
slowly I forgot to understand myself.

Awoken I was to the sounds of silence
passing through my torn eye sockets.
A new fate had been stamped onto my box.

The delicate teardrops of happiness
are at my doorstep crying
alike the grinning demons of my head.

Sometimes their blood leaks lightning
on my sky and destroys the tingling
yelps of poor and hungry women.

They cannot see for they are deaf
to my tales of nostalgia,
which create a cursed reality of yellow.

So instead of smiling they bare an ax
to my knees so they can feel all
the emotions of a hummingbird.

Where his mother tried to deceive
the premonition of genocide by praying
to a dead tradition which saw her soul.

Maybe if the sky hadn't fallen or if
her eyes didn't talk to the tomb of a
monster she would notice,

The darkle spinning out of his mouth.
The quiet of a fostered pigpen pulled
me back to sleep.

There, the King of Reason was playing
chess with the Ace of Fools to be spared the
death of his sister the Maiden of Light's Cry.

And when next I saw sunlight it was
black with my fear of the dead.
I slept on.

---
Darkle - The shinning of a normally lusterless object; an illusion that makes a dim or black object shine; METAPHOR.

this years best work so far, and there are six (6) parts to this poem...