Delate

In undoing myself in recent survey,
I came upon a failure of sorts.
For, all I read unto you is more than I will ever be.

I dream and cast away those dirty women,
Who play in the mud and crawl on your back

His fortune, my own forever, a stench overwhelming,
A prelate born of my own fingers, worthy in bestowed pride.
You, now tired of listlessness,
Relax, love, we are only a dream.

Abundance swarms,
I cradle you as I would your mind, twice remembered,
I sleep in justice and hang in sarcasm revered,
Heighten these walls you allow her to glutton

And I walk away beside your common sense.

Sky and ocean, space is empty and replicated,
Yet the road rutty and unrelaxed;

The road from secrets and detained reaction.