Through Sight Laden In Stars

Taking out the art to make it artificial, from the trench work to the private prison
The curses that follow are all human and intentional, and hollow becomes feelings
I’m more numb than I care to make official, in my soul with issues concealing
Cavorting with demons like every hour be witching and everyone suspicious
It could all be glimpses of a bigger mosaic finished, maybe all pieces can be mended

And somehow, throughout all of these fractured images, to pick the right pieces to present
To be bathed in the light of the upper limits, to be transcended, transparent and righteous
In various shades of imperfection, I stand before the aforementioned a spectrum of brokenness
The ugliness steadily rising yet unadorned and unspoken, what’s not claimed also manifests
The ribs may be a cage for the heart in the flesh, but its song still reaches through bars to express

If my name is to be mentioned beyond this span I’m currently within, may it be of honest depiction
May it be carried in the bosom of soothing winds as well as by tongues burning coals of destruction
Show that heaven and hell truly did exist, and both were of one being from the very beginning
I don’t want the garbs of sainthood all lavish, while in life I adorn those of a hermit over a fragile figure
The many trysts where I flirted with radiance away from prying eyes and judgemental people

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