Shelta Realms - Ode to Lunacy

Cannot control forces that quake my orbital chest.
Hair blades! Do not visualize it to forcibly drill thru my skin.
Reason was beyond reach
Still-death was yet to be achieved
And affection was delved the least.

Festive glare of bones and flesh resonates.
The more I drool, the less satisfactory it gets.
But mind you,
It was not my fault that my gum swell to release innate fangs-
Fangs of revolving mental aphasia.

Where is my coat during cold, lonely dimness?
I beg you to react out of kindness and humanity,
and answer plainly that my over-worked body,
gets what it longs for,
in a twenty-eight day cycle of brain torment.

Waxing grounds for fury, waning cause of passion.
I have resorted to detach the link in exchange of isolation.
Though the magnificence of solitude hovers relatively,
I occasionally pound my head on concretized walls,
hoping that I could hurtle the moon.

Shelta Realms

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