Melodrama

She cast me with a disconsolate sigh
As a puppet in her theatre I drew near.
I needed accompaniment to paint out a rhythm in the soft matter

I reached back to dead ages for inspiration
Seeking a resurrection rather than to live
I had no misgivings just a miss

But who was this miss
And why was she crowned
By the frame of my vision.

I stayed my sword of self-execution
And drew back in time to certain death
In crypts the dream was kept, and crept

Towards imaginary sights, of unwieldly heights
And he knew him, new her, new them.
I dreamed a sink unclean.

With purpetious bubbles
Lost in bream.
And I sought excess to escape in steam.

I was hot. Hot with sweat
And she secreted all to the vet
Where I stayed my dismemberment of certain pride.