To swear, sew and promise

Wear the crown, while the crownless wears the world, whereas the naked stalk the prey, the prey has eaten the flesh forlorn, naked, laid barren.
Cross the words, that entangle, the various mistakes we seem to follow, the sensation of touching loneliness, while, whilst, among it all, freedom has been left adjacent to what we’ve mistakenly made as man, we have damaged as humans.
I feel the sensation of none belonging, there are no roots that seem to hold me down, where I should follow, I have no way, where I should stay, I dare not dwell, for every monster might come out, might want to stare down, might want to shake what has been laid barren, the mistakes made, by the hands that dared touch, while we stare, forgetting, fading as we hide from loneliness.
We created our own void, our own damage, our own karma.
We scrape the barrel, try to sound off in pride, decide to pay the price in mockery, whenever we look back, our past self will look back and cry, I think not as myself, my past made its own vow, instead, at the very least, to loose it all, to remain, to forgive, never to let go, what was made undone, denied and exploited, solved by mashing down, on everything that was once held.
I look at it, delusion, I feel it, I’d say I fell for it, I’d wager, I’d proclaim, in fact, I’d say nothing less, I’d just be gone, wherever I may roam.
Undecided, somethings have been left to misfortune, when will it take place, to realize?
The scepter must lay heavy, for the cloak drags down, the prince, princess, queen and kind, laid there, as buffoons, subjected to the world, slaved out to the belief they can serve the righteous and still take word, upon the world, that the free are more than awake, while the shackled drag the bones, the promise, the words, that lay the cavernous mistakes, that brought forth the shakes that imprison, majestic, the lady that stroke and draw the words, airless and motionless, the wand fell down, shivered, cracked and dusted.
Now that you can see, if you could see, what would be there to be held dear, dead like fell air, you won’t be able to hold it in, tight.
I’ll leave the last page, the last leaf, the last transcription blank.
Feel it in. Vow to it.

Crude, the way

Since you've asked for the why, when the unturned eyes, meets the mind, longing to see.
A sun dive, down the color, a ring that claps with solitude.
A mark, left unchecked, that claimed the life of those whom denied, the lost have confirmed.
A jobless memento, where the clear clouds, seem to dim away, the settle of vision, has been denied.
A wave, came, washed away what could be, there is not a single trace, left behind, so says the sunset over the hills and the dancing shades that bask the ocean.
I tended to sleep, a sleepless job, a silent whisper that I’d deny, such would be the intention of attention I would seek, fear, avarice and malcontent.
I tend to stargaze, I get lost in it all and as such I walk the sands, these same sands, seem cold by moonlight, as the monolith of time echoes and bellows the changing fate.
I’ve buried the hatchet, seems if it was a war, it turned down into a scuffle, if it was a scuffle, it turned into a buzz and as a buzz, it seems to have faded away.
I seem to loose memory, as much as I loose faith, detachment is now the word, as the things that where left behind, clutter the way and as sand now flows with the ever flowing footsteps, everything falls, turning down to sand, turning down to time, turning and fading, like sliding shadows that chase the light, that close the eon of solitude.
I proclaim, I, the I that is sense, the sense that’s self and not an illusion, that was meet when the time was long, calms the mind and clasps the present, for as unseen and uncertain as the future may be, I consider the solitude, the service and the servants, the obtuse delusion that seems to produce a notion that all is well, when in fact, the motion is crossed and hexed with the disclaimer of perversion.
I crossed that line, time as it should be, has rolled by, I know this, I lost something, along the way, along the motion of sound, vision and color.
I set the compass to follow, the path now points there, where I need to follow, where what I left, now fells as it should fall into memory now lost.
The flow is not as clear, don’t you think?
The pace, indeed the pace, the set coordinates, that would lead to achieve, are now nothing more than that.
The word is, was and will always be one.
I speak, the word as follows, the direction passes the point.
Left for another land, compassion and sense, follow silent.