Shearing

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 On an other realm of a gray mirror

I speak to a nostalgical pysche,

so stuck in the gnashes of the old

sunken deep in scratches of a heart,

incisions of a passed past treachery.


Nuisance voices over my head,

far cries of the hysterical scathed

haunts of a somber hollow soul 

an oceanic void yet not filled,

a home of stray impure spirits.


Off I rip hides old of age

bold onto cold heels I hold

walk a straight in sleight

entrust once a heart over again,

stand and skin over. 


Off a top shelf, I dress a new self

a solicit engraved in loyalty

to a top contender I surrender,

firm knots gnarled by our hems

to him a rib all forever and more.


@juliuscseguya




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