She towers above in her suspicious scorn
As the impenetrable stare
Of her glassy batimented eyes
Unleashes unseen volleys upon the
Crumpled penitent
Who begs for refuge outside her portcullis.
Sweet sparkling streams of beautiful brilliant blue
Rain inexhaustible from the unsealed
Firmaments of her eyes.
They pierce my skin as though it were a sponge
And flood a churning pool inside my chest
In which must steep the twisting heaving teabag of my heart
Until its airy mesh melts and bursts forth
Billowing waves and chunks of boiling crimson
To tumble towards my guts with leaden weight.
Dissolving in the sweet source of my sorrows
Until they are no more
And leave behind a placid pool of titrated tribulation.

But when the cruel mercy of this bittersweet broth
Molds my liquid phoenix heart anew
The memory of its pain it washes clean.
Still blindly seeking
The same naïve eternal lesson never to be learned
I set myself again outside her walls
For what is man without his Dulcinea?

back to the highway that never ends