I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
In my fragile vanilla tower —
Off-white, yellowed with age
Made up of cross sections
Of mainly manly long bones
Thin little discs
My palace, my keeps
My Honeycomb Catacombs
Wafers, not for consumption
Articulated — in kind
With precious cabochon gemstones
Emeralds and Peridots of Olivine Greens
Queens envying
The nine lives of Tiger’s Eyes.

I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
But for the birds —
Crimson canaries
Made red by a parting sea
Fly in skein and swain
Speed, the likes I’ve never seen
The blur of Autumn Reds leave a trail
Vermillion swish with a tail
Scarlet whoosh of wind
Ruffling the chimes of ivory
Humanity’s wind chimes of teeth
Gentle ivory chatter floats on the breeze
Behind by the flight, of crimson canaries.

I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
All that is heard
In my silent world
Teeth softly speaking
Agile words once left unspoken
Grace the halls, grace the walls
Secrets to my keeps
Released, by the whispering ivory
To a privileged ear
Untold confessions unfold
Not so far, but near
A lovely chimed chant to hear.

I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
As Day retreats
Dusk turns to Dark
In my world of Threes
An unholy trinity — a trilogy
Amber to lavender
Lavender to a violet gray night
Candles of fat and marrow
Burn throughout the night
While Morpheus greets
My little quilled crimson canaries
Jealous, suffering from a constant wake
All is quiet, all is in a hushed state.

I wait here alone
Cursed without sleep
Silence is fleeting —
Lit wicks shadow-cast
Prance the dance of Seven Veils
Flames shimmer and flicker
To a snake charming flute
Hypnotize and mesmerize
These watchful eyes
Until the dawn arrives with Eos
Waking my crimson canaries
She swings open Heaven’s Gates
Releasing a golden amber sunrise
A Passing Passion bright
Silhouettes of lace
Rays of light fill my keeps
Beautiful champagne streamers
Crawl through holes in honeycomb
Where catacombs sleep and weep.

I wait here lonesome
Accursed with sleeplessness
To repeat, to repeat —
Full circle, no prey, no pray
No need for it’s perfectly clear
As I’m cursed to wait here
In my vanilla tower
Wafers of honeycomb
Crimson canaries
Softly speaking teeth
Amber sunrises
Lavender afternoons
Dancing flames of the violet gray nights
Waiting behind the Seven Gates
What more could I want —
While waiting alone and awake?

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2014