It's been raining paint for hours now.
Off and on, off and on for hours still.
From clouds thick and shadowed black.
Red and green and purple drops.
Sprites, elves, and a great winged beast.
Flood threw out my optic scene.
Still I.
Don't know how high I've climbed.
Watching the stars dance and realign.
But the closer I get.
To the summit of Sunsets.
The further away I feel.
Milo...Milo unlock your iron doors.
Let the outside reality in,
and let your madness flow.
Milo...Milo your Avant Garden's real.
Visible winds blow your perceptions askew,
yet you chose to call it home.
Wild grasses smile to themselves.
Back and forth, back and forth for hours still.
Laughing at the ants who are all marching in line.
Just to be eaten one by one.
Gnomes, Trolls, and Giants Of Stone.
Make their way from futures told.
Still I.
Don't know how high I've climbed.
Watching the stars dance and realign.
But the closer I get.
To the summit of Sunsets.
The further away I feel.
Milo...Milo unlock your Iron Doors.
Let the outside reality in.
And let your madness flow.
Milo...Milo your Avant Garden is real.
Visible winds blow your perceptions askew,
yet you chose to call it home.
........Within the perimeter of his Iron Walls.
Squared and squandered, all around them fall.
Millions of microcosms forgotten and scorned.
Form fell to ash, none are for-warned.
Then Milo...Milo proclaimed.
These doors...I'll unlock.
You'll open up your eyes,
and all will be...all will be lost.
YOU ARE READING
The Immaculate Musings Of the Misguided Miscreant Known As Igneous Mouse
PoetryA collection of my poetry which is commonly my way of dealing with life; both the good times and the bad, all of the weird moments, the unexpectedly inspirational events, as well of those unfortunately hard ones that we learn lessons from. I like to...
