Beautiful Confusion

Gently mapping the malady,

Prosing my reality,

Woven like a daisy chain,

Sweating lines of sun’s refrain,

Crowning brows of hidden words,

That from the truth is not detoured,

Secret in the curve of smile,

Laughing in my poet’s style,

As confusion paints a wicked frown,

On lips where speechlessness abounds,

And I will not smooth the roughened edge,

Nor lead you safely from that ledge,

We all must walk a path of thorns,

Before the darkness can be scorned,

So fear not the perfidious words I pen,

Nor the mixed message my eyes will send,

I am teaching the way of the unbound heart,

The preconceived is sundered, torn apart,

You can place no logic, nor can you blame,

For the things I whisper that have no name,

The path of least resistance fails,

Like a snake devouring his own tail,

So straight and true my spirit flies,

With shameless ink that tells no lie,

And you can watch it arch with midnight wings,

Wondering what sort of glorious things,

I have perhaps encapsulated in metaphor,

That you cannot grasp yet hunger for,

But I will feed you wine red grapes of wrath,

If you should find your feet upon my path.

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