|KleptomaniaPage 1 of 1 |
To a friend in need.
Childhood memories loomed with threads of silk and cotton,
Fleece spun to the melody of a seraphs harp,
And the touch of a king.
Fair lady adorned gold laurel draped in linen,
Her hair was a nest of vengeance the color of onyx, pebbles sprawled and eroded underneath ghostly feet and clear waters,
Eyes a green and petrified and engorged pierced the shadows.
Pins and needles of a sullen past waived you of your thieving ways, tickling your fancy,
Puritanical punishment to yourself bestows in the privacy of your temple.
Her prayers driveled in likeness to a rabid animal euthanized sacrifice—befitting to be pounded upon an anvil—a vile consciousness and Janice's pondering. In stillness flecks of feldspar ignite the flames to Gehenna assigned to the trespassers. Pricked by pleasure and adrenaline, and torn violently every-which-way.
Riches pilfered leave bare the atrium. Valient statues stare into the crevices of time, spaced encircling a pillar of light from above-stained glass to the worn transgressed. To only he alone his compassionate gaze fixed upon the eels and tainted wings.