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Aisles
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The Poet, Pt. I: Dusk
In his madness tears were silent rays
That warmed his body like two hands
In his silence faces watched his pain
In his state love felt like rain.
On his way he found all sorts of men
whores and books would soothe his ache
Leaned on the wet rail of a city bridge
As cars passed by, his only friends.
Time would crush him in a restless sleep
while others thought that life prevailed.
All those poems that he learned by heart
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Still unanswered they remain
He faced the lies when he was not prepared
You're never hard when you're thirteen.
He walked the city
He had nothing to exchange
His only work was not for sale
In his anger he would base his creed
While beautiful dreams would be kept unknown.
A noble man was soon to be destroyed
in the old world of gods where good prevailed.
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