Tenure of the Beast

She longed for spatial symmetry
Lolled flat against the door
Washed in waves of crystalline verses
Combed through tomes of forgotten lore

Through much arbitrary banter
She learned the art of silence
The touch of lost ideas
The taste of nectarine violence

There were many things she hoped for
When day slipped into black
As Salty trails led the explorer
Down the spine of the dragon’s back

She knew there would never come
The time in which the night
Would bring that warm comfort
No thrashing hearts to rewrite

Tenure of the beast
Trekked sapphire lain in her pages
And the almost-dreams of tomorrow
Were just useless, lonely stages