Dream State

The terpsichore maven admired her steps.
She laughed as others found fault with her pleonasm
then she re-imagined herself turning contrariwise
in her common rhematic form.

Though somewhat kenspeckled within the crowd she expressed
her ingrained jeremiad of thoughts; a complaining tirade,
an obscure sea of grief, a patration trapped in a lonely imbroglio,
trying to find the secability of worth.

Caught in a rhythm which was otherwise solitary
She played all the conflicting parts alone.
Causing creation anew through
Spells and Incantations and Evolutions and Revolutions.

She can see what is hiding in the darkness: a thief called time.
All the shadows on the wall are bandits
Playing games with supernatural forces.
Swallowing her whole in the obumbrate light of her growlery.

Dwarmy in her bitterness and empty in her ingenuity,
She stands forsooth in happiness again yet distrusting by nature
With the discrepancy of a lovemonger outside her door.
Will she be his agonarch or his amandation?

If she ever finds the courage to even open the door...

She opens the door and allows him into her lococession...

Inside a place crawling with novaturient wishes of the condemned
He will take the drastic medicine he needs, with his rebellion forestalled,
So that he does not come into bud and bloom for nothing in the sun
But for a taste, a journey, a bright escape, and now a mournful longing.

Cosmogyral without the stench of failure,
She stands caprizant at the sight of him
With findible words cut away from her hemerine ritual of tongues,
He is labiscated to the point of no return.

His sevidical tone yearns to temerate her songs
For his quibbleisms will earn him much scorn from her radicarian nature
and in his ambiguity he will love her fishing for words
In her dance-loving speech.