GARGOYLE OF THE LOST

In the heart of the struggle between insanity and thought,

the dark shrouds the brightness, akin to the murky shades of twilight.

Eradicating the flaws

Boasting the illusion of purity.

The eye does not see what the self hears,

and what it discovers, is muffled by the heartbeat,

blood rushing.

The dizzying aftermath that renders a person incapable of understanding the danger the eyes cannot see.

Sensing the watchful gaze of drifters

Eyes filled with pity for the scheme of a nefarious understanding of hell.

Do not grant me clemency, for I am the one who sits under the raging passion of the moon.

Making peace with imagined enemies

Cand real delusions.

I am the gargoyle of the wondering miscreants’

giving watch

Waiting to be absolved,

and hence,

dip my toes in the tepid water beneath the fountain spray.

When the moon turns dark, and all I am afforded is the shadow of   good and a slight hint of evil will my insanity slumber

and ego find peace in the nothingness afore me.

Tears will quench my longing.

The hollow wind will be my companion,

and one agonizing slice of flesh will make me forget.

Laura Chowanski   5/29/2012

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