The rumble of a photonic flight,
Brushed with mascara tears,
Tumbling into sleepless blight,
Till the masquerade of shear flares,
Becomes a stanza of the undue,
And a song of revue,
Plucks a chameleonic hue.
I need her.
A quiet beast,
Immersed to the breast,
Immobile in phantasm,
Reaching, grasping, cascading,
In tempestuous chasm,
Tranced by the stupor of animation,
Amidst the chaos of relinquish.
I must have her.
That’s it,
Smile darkly,
Recant the rapture,
The eyes have it all,
Let it be Reve.