The Slow Burn

You're a man, on your high tower, golden sunlight on your shoulder.
This is your kingdom, and it's as far as the eye can meet.
Where you can be, undeniably the king of all you see.
Women jump at your proposal, to join you in your light,
but the one woman who might have said no
has the piercing eyes of Scorpio,
so you took her down
showed her how
death by execution
can turn her golden hair
into a watery nightmare.
The ocean has no limits,
it covers up your acts
but you revealed your dirty story
avoiding all the facts.
For your kingdom is as far as your eye can meet
and when the public loves you
you're not their enemy.
The white hot light of desperately-seeking-to-know
bathes your narcissism in an evil glow.
So when you're king as everyone can see
You get what you want, what you think you really need.
Since the real person
you killed with that girl,
you let the ocean wash away
in the effervescent watery twirl.
Everything else after that night
shaped, changed, cursed your kingdom
You watched the glow and the gold turn
and still you show the world
how you slowly burn, in real time.
You're the murderous darling,
the golden fool, no golden fleece,
And you are terribly aware of it.

Disintended Solution pt.II

These eyeballs they shine.
Glistening dew in a nighttime field,
but in this sparkled scenery
bulbs burst, and crack, and gleam.
Stars dying in a fit of capturing this moment.
This is what life is,
what my life has become.
Whatever road I left,
has drown in the landscape of time,
in the waters of desperate emotion to carry me high.
High into better fields so wide and promising.
I become overwhelmed, but thankful,
but arrogant, but humble,
and nothing I ever was before.
I am what they see,
what they need,
what they hate,
yet, really, nothing they need.
Becoming a mirror for what they see in themselves.
The masses cannot understand what I've become.
they only assume,
it's what I've been.
When the sensitivity of my relative nature
makes me become impressionable with points of view,
I am what they see.
So I am to be
God does not exist on this plane, but I do my best to create him (which is not much)
with the powers of influence over the people who see me as him.

I love being famous.

Meant to be?

I can speak my own demise
and decide
whether or not to get behind
this tantamount desire
to go about with,
as one would say,
the precocious ironies of my independent nature.

This girl, she breathes
smoking desire
over her profound lips
a withstanding of sorts,
in modeling
any one of her
condemning flaws.

As if she stands
for anything greater,
her life wouldn't be bitter,
yet the noise and sound confounds her.
And sound, as we all know
is the bane of our keen eardrums.

Her delights are intentional,
and meant to be harmless.
But what delights can she have,
when decisions become pointless?

No real future awaits her,
only the future her dreams promise.
And in the reality of a day
night can take over
and carry it all away.

Goodbye to Scorpio

So flighty are the feelings which my mind refines,
they depict a girl with no meaning, no rhyme
no static energy, no prudent wherewithal
no sense in the word, on which my mind can cull.
But feelings aren't meant to grasp and measure,
not meant to garner and list all my pleasure.
They mean to seethe and writhe and barrage
and keep the shadows of my head a mirage.
This one, who at last knows their shadowy night
can see clearly now into blank insight.
So what does it mean to dive deep down inside?
Search out the feelings you intentionally hide?
It means fusing into your own subconscious
where depictions become completely weightless.
Define your entirety on ten-thousand stages
Unravel the mystery strewn on your pages.
Without so much as a rational explanation
on the synthesized details of our biological station.