This is a dear friend and myself at an unearthly hour writing. We decided to leave it untitled as we "dont feel like we cna encompass it in a title. it shall be untitled"
On the iris of infinity
The Jester stands weeping
Sundials pelt him
Reminding him of
His evanescence
He smiles through the chipping plaster of his mask
The red paint cracking, peeling
As he folds down upon the ground, quietly kneeling
The moon shone
Merciless
Laughing now, refusing to come
Covering the land in silver blood
Tauntingly calling him
"Moonchild"
He brought the stars, the planets, ethereal and nebulous
But no moon, the sliver sheen eluding his fingers
Slipping through his soul as liquid glass
He ripped off his mask
As he heard the mandrake scream
He saw the ecclesiastic
The meaningless
And as he gazed and gazed
His myriad demons
Festering in his cherubic veneer emerged
A ghastly, peerless, kafkaesque beauty
Jigsaw
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:)
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