Pseudopsychosis.

Leopard’s paws

white like scolecite stones

faceted to fingernails

to the death of the wild,

a resemblance to a beast,

a blaze of light,

and to the gods,

their hand in life and death;

feral blood, extinction,

a feeling of a dream

in crystal architect

reading the skylight,

gathering life in the leaves

during the summer months.

In the leaves

and illume from the shadows,

perpetuity like the sea

drowning and unraveling

across the eventide,

cried thus alone,

your eyes fade into anise red

eaten by the onyx ashes

of the sun;

silence I assail,

you are a mirror;

darkening laughter

slices in madness

in its claws to labor

intimately anew,

a lure to the dance

skirting mayhap

to a foliage autumn;

creations bevel innocence

a mother’s paws at best

raveling onto your fur,

detaching to the incite

meeting twilit hours,

eyes granting sleep;

the horizons strobe pink,

and for me, your eyes bleed;

your tongue weighs out

like you need water,

your jaw locks,

arms full without mercy,

there will be no mercy

on the lonely path;

and your mind is like a garden

of psychosis, undefined;

darkened oaths,

you once prowled the streets

taken alone

to the leaf

of laughter

a stillness that swallows

vanity unbridled

into near-death

before we found you;

I can imagine you

in defiance of loneliness,

the wind-flow, withering,

in darkness (I see you)

in darkness—eludes

the poppies

free from the wave

of the ocean;

a haunted suspect

that put your mind forgotten

to the pain,

and alive you were

like the echo of fate

in winter’s lakeside brush

that hoards path

of footfall, and we thought

to near death.

He lacks awareness,

rather swayed

to carved pupa insects

on the wall,

with eyes, betraying silence or sleep,

for he never really sleeps, I know;

he seeks asylum in ego,

himself a slip beyond

the shadows afar;

his oak bark eyes

sail the dark,

bombast his presence

to the booms of leaves,

and dark from all else

his eyes.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

---

A/N: Dedicated to my orange cat (that I will lovingly refer to as orangie, though not his real name unfortunately) who is crazy but lovable. Wrote this as well from the inspiration of Words for the soul’s comment who wanted to see a blog post about that infamous orangie.

I hope you all enjoyed. Thank you for reading.

---