Amid A Cacophony Of My Trance

May I call it apparently and apparently will it merely be - this trance of my qualm dances in the willies of their own and I an observer and nothing more, behold with my eyes open. Is there a spark? May I be honored to ascertain it at the zenith of what I can do? Hush! Must not thou speak! You, forsooth you my dear. Pray I keep mum until is my mind at peace.

A tinnitus rings around. Alas! how it outdoes the bells of Christmas that limply fall from the pelmet of my door. 'Tis a presage, is it not my love? If not so, 'twill won't hath acceptance of my heart for how can it not be so when heard I so audibly its intensity grow beyond. Alack! I feel what I hold grow larger beyond the size of my palms just as well. It all hits me in tandem.

The curtain lightly lifts itself, abetting a crevice to be carved as remains intact the other end of the drapery right with the rings and pins above. Has its fabric color so pale that seize it my zeal with one glimpse of it and calls it confiscation. Shall I revolt? Why! Must I not for 'tis delicate to touch, but fragile art my bones now.

Leave it oh listener of my dolour. Leave it right where hath thee found it - I know it well that did thou never seek it. Dare must thee not to lie! Am I angry but will the red shard break into even smaller pieces at thy false claim still?

Now, tell me if hath I stripped myself bare enough, or if remains some part of m

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y brown still covered - tell me. Will I be naked in as thy lashes kiss the low line of thy eyes? Lackaday! What dilemma is this that demands I thy shrewdness yet, leave I not a soupcon of a hollow hole in air art my ears juxtaposed by!

I wonder now if I have lost my senses. Art my eyes still open wide but to no sight. Must thou not ascribe this to my blindness for the blind I am not, 'tis the loss of senses on my skin or underneath it.

Will thee be kind enough to be a witness to the ambiance whilst I refuse to see?

Art thy hands-free - a finger will do you know - to hold mine because they wander in terrible wildness?

Lastly, if I may ask, can those lips in pair move for words I utter?

You are not a man of conceit to deny, yet fear I thou will. Confound me thus. Will you?

At night when I lay in bed, 

As I drift towards my sleep, 

When the eve becomes shadowy red, 

My slumber has begun deep, I will grope in dark for something to hold for something to feel.

You see, have I broken a heart of one so dear to me that betrays me everything that dwells within what thou see.

You see, was my conviction refuted besides when I chiseled open the other mind for chiseling him open within was the only way to know him.

Tell me, my listener, art thou with me or asleep just as fast as thou may?

May thou dream sweetly then.