This definitely isn't finished yet, so any opinions or critiques are welcome
From this storytelling tile, a place not lost
But I’ve been gone awhile;
Inhabiting walls Scrawled with seduction and sweat,
Raising glasses to the ink smeared
Over the mirrored oubliettes
Of my irises.
This hell of ecstacy and liars’ passions
That call for the seizure of the ace of hearts
For he has ravaged the queen in spades.
But this story starts and ends in media res,
And I am not a king, or a gentleman.
I am the burning man, the illustrated man,
The one who stood in the back, kept in stasis,
Spinning yarns for smiles anywhere I can.
So let me tell you a story
Arc from me to you.
You are my inciting incident,
I’ll skip the rising action,
To reach your arms sooner;
Swept up on our words, onward to a great climax.
You are so beautiful when we are full of falling action.
A misleading turn of phrase, for there is no ending hidden
In the way that I am falling for you.
But these desolate nights pull me down,
Alone, I long for your touch.
I yearn for the slick scent of your skin pressed against mine,
Collapsing to dream in each other’s arms.
A future full of such blissful nights.
But your absence does such things to me, as you globetrot,
My wanderlust expands in my chest.
I gasp at these walls, too close,
Won’t let me get up,
Won’t let me go
Anywhere, start from scratch, I could be a whole new man.
I could shout to the world,
Nemo Me Impune Lacessit.
But it wouldn’t be true.
I am unfit to rule, and will not stand at your approach.
I will set myself ablaze with the flash of your eyes.
I will etch my memories into my flesh, a patchwork
of intertwined bodies breaking hearts.
This definitely isn't finished yet, so any opinions or critiques are welcome
From this storytelling tile, a place not lost
But I’ve been gone awhile;
Inhabiting walls Scrawled with seduction and sweat,
Raising glasses to the ink smeared
Over the mirrored oubliettes
Of my irises.
This hell of ecstacy and liars’ passions
That call for the seizure of the ace of hearts
For he has ravaged the queen in spades.
But this story starts and ends in media res,
And I am not a king, or a gentleman.
I am the burning man, the illustrated man,
The one who stood in the back, kept in stasis,
Spinning yarns for smiles anywhere I can.
So let me tell you a story
Arc from me to you.
You are my inciting incident,
I’ll skip the rising action,
To reach your arms sooner;
Swept up on our words, onward to a great climax.
You are so beautiful when we are full of falling action.
A misleading turn of phrase, for there is no ending hidden
In the way that I am falling for you.
But these desolate nights pull me down,
Alone, I long for your touch.
I yearn for the slick scent of your skin pressed against mine,
Collapsing to dream in each other’s arms.
A future full of such blissful nights.
But your absence does such things to me, as you globetrot,
My wanderlust expands in my chest.
I gasp at these walls, too close,
Won’t let me get up,
Won’t let me go
Anywhere, start from scratch, I could be a whole new man.
I could shout to the world,
Nemo Me Impune Lacessit.
But it wouldn’t be true.
I am unfit to rule, and will not stand at your approach.
I will set myself ablaze with the flash of your eyes.
I will etch my memories into my flesh, a patchwork
of intertwined bodies breaking hearts.
From this storytelling tile, a place not lost
But I’ve been gone awhile;
Inhabiting walls Scrawled with seduction and sweat,
Raising glasses to the ink smeared
Over the mirrored oubliettes
Of my irises.
This hell of ecstacy and liars’ passions
That call for the seizure of the ace of hearts
For he has ravaged the queen in spades.
But this story starts and ends in media res,
And I am not a king, or a gentleman.
I am the burning man, the illustrated man,
The one who stood in the back, kept in stasis,
Spinning yarns for smiles anywhere I can.
So let me tell you a story
Arc from me to you.
You are my inciting incident,
I’ll skip the rising action,
To reach your arms sooner;
Swept up on our words, onward to a great climax.
You are so beautiful when we are full of falling action.
A misleading turn of phrase, for there is no ending hidden
In the way that I am falling for you.
But these desolate nights pull me down,
Alone, I long for your touch.
I yearn for the slick scent of your skin pressed against mine,
Collapsing to dream in each other’s arms.
A future full of such blissful nights.
But your absence does such things to me, as you globetrot,
My wanderlust expands in my chest.
I gasp at these walls, too close,
Won’t let me get up,
Won’t let me go
Anywhere, start from scratch, I could be a whole new man.
I could shout to the world,
Nemo Me Impune Lacessit.
But it wouldn’t be true.
I am unfit to rule, and will not stand at your approach.
I will set myself ablaze with the flash of your eyes.
I will etch my memories into my flesh, a patchwork
of intertwined bodies breaking hearts.