The Silver Shambles

I dropped a coin in the wishing well
But did not wish at all

And so it began
The exodus of my existence:
At night I painted
The black skies
On white bed sheets 
Spilling ink 
Spilling tar
Spilling ashes sent back from war
I painted
Night after night
From dusk till dawn
But the stars never showed 
Neither the moon manifested
Nor the auroras appeared
The only light I saw
Was from the white of my eyes

Rubies line my lips
I bury diamond in the dark 
Deep in my throat 
Foams a rabid, rabid bark
But I do not dare
For the censure is too strong
Lashes even if you are right
Why wonder when you are wrong
So I paint
And I paint
A monk
And some saint
Both parts of same hypocrisy 
Part blotch and part a taint

This endless evolution 
Is just revision of the rot
Mirages made images
And themes turned to thought 
For we begin our blasphemies 
By begging to be left
Away from the trials
While accepting the act of theft
For then the onus lies
On those ailing institutions 
Who accepts blood and bile
To darken words of the constitutions
Oh how I wither in this weather
Where all claim the right to rest
Whilst walking naked through the fire
Hoping for the best

So, my bed sheet it is dark
My bed sheet; it is wet,
And my menstruating mind
Loves to water hate
And grow flowers that are golden
And encased in a thousand thorn
A beauty to be envied 
Not to be woven and worn
Thus I sleep
In the shadows
Aware at my loss
Dreaming of the silver disc
Falling at the toss

I dropped a coin in the wishing well
But did not wish at all

Oh why did I not wish at all