Intimacy Interrupted.

The Journey Poem.

Intimacy Interrupted.

Denise Mills.

Restless skull; Fearless path...

I feel the music from a generation of journeyers,

circling their stars around dispirited hate.

They are not bothered with their destination,

but have memorialized their fate.

A filthy train; littered with wrath...

I hear the elocution of the tongue-tied

masses, expatriates who expatiate;

crippled victims of thoughtless negation

and warped computations.

They deliver the midnight benediction,

but nothing comes out sane or straight.

Summer reeks; composted past...

Spring blooms have fallen deep inside the maiden,

the twists and turns means harvest is coming late.

So many sexual cannibals during my evolution,

that I am bereft of intimacy;

I had only perishable ancestral heroes;

my dreams were a feast for the desecrate.

Flesh after bone; exquisite ectoplast...

I have met a wolf made of lightening,

she stands on the track, serene and sedate,

in the direction which corresponds to my re-creation.

The train has departed, her way remains unabated.

Grace embellished; Sophia coronate.

Beams of light flame their way from her eyes,

through old grime caked on the broken widows

of wholly unholy conjugate; metamorphate

into evanescent cascades of wisdom so bright;

I follow her out of the restrictions of the station,

bliss replaces the advertised mortality rate.