My mind is still a fortress

In the darkest

of my most bitter nights

I saw the plumes of great pyres

the licking flames of my burning passions




it was

an almost cosmic call

sent careening over nightshade canopy

to disband the thieving bands

of fear

hiding in the conscious mirror

and though my home

knows only but violence

and resentful, broken glass

I shall walk 

the calming twilight

and write

unseen by



my father is but a figure

and my mother is lost in drops of beer

but my mind is still a fortress

of soaring thoughts 

and sharpened words

pen and paper

shall be my shield and armor

and my words

shall be my sword


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