ENIGMAS

I sleep the screams of emaciated dreams
my heart's eloquence
toasting upon a firepit
tended by skeletal desires.

Walking the turrets of conformity
guarding the prisons of cadaverous angels
who all have bleeding plumes of anthill visions
sticking out of their eye sockets.

Dusk becomes the twilight of my conscience
where fairies turn cannibals
and chess pawns become serial killers.

All pressing me inward
into a puzzle of lethargic messiah riddles
no one cares to read in a mirror
for they are paradigms of the soul.

Cubicle world crushes
my ark of life preserver ponderings,
gossamer legs of envious lies
wobbling underneath.

Perhaps noon will make transparent
each jigsaw tale lost in the ravines of indifference.

Or maybe I'll be their slave
lobotomy for my reality
schedule on a waiting list
of theological cosmetic surgeons.