The Flaky Derelict

Of masks, monsters and demons caged in my head.

In loving memory of our stars

1 Comment

The stars are endless,

Perplexing and eternal,

Yet my star is mortal

And as mesmerizing,

She’s always been close

To heart,

To home,

How troublesome,

How loathsome,

for she’s my Esmeralda

And I’m her hunchback,

And I reach out

To her hypothetical arms,

For a fictional embrace,

For in her realm

The likes of me do not exist,

Do not persist,

And the watcher,

The pretentious I,

Will remain watching

And frowning upon the stars

That can never compare to mine.


It’s such a shame

To want a want that never wanted me,

When that want is oblivious

In the darkness of her ignorance,

Or what I perceive

As her ignorance,

her bliss,

Her bliss is my undoing.

To reach out with words spoken

More vivid that those written

The latter I write alone

The former I write on her features

With a pencil dubbed affection

I can be crazy,

Or perceived as insane,

When my insanity speaks perfection,


To become more

To transcend from writing words

To being the words.

How I long for my remains

To be salvaged from the wreckage,

Wreckage titled a life,

Where my wants are ignored,

On purpose or by chance,

Where my path seems dim,


And full of terrors,

Full of demons,

Demons I created,

Demons I nurtured,

To perfection,

To completion,

Their perfection and their completion.


How troublesome is the feeble soul,

Judge my humanity if you will,

But you don’t see with my eyes,

The hair flowing like the tides of October

Crashing against my fingertips,

The eyes, wide open, wide awake

Wherein you can stare at your maker

And your breaker,

Her smile is salvation

To my demons,

Her frown, hell for the sinner I,

Her complexities intrigue me,

They test my resolve,

But the worlds I’d spare

To become one with them

Is insuperable,

With every embrace

I am born anew

From the ashes of my former





Can you see with my eyes?


Yet meaningful.

I will always fall in the depth of my words,

But only those

About her,

To only be saved

By her,

Or by the momentary healing

Of my poisonous cigarettes.



Author: Zeus

I am the grey area, everything by choice and nothingness by choice, wherein everything is possible as it is improbable.

One thought on “In loving memory of our stars

  1. This will always be my all-time favourite..

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