Thrusting my blade to the stone,
Scratching out eternity�s promise,
I conjure images; my puppets.
They will transfix you.
Sirens they call to you, singing with voices
Fluid as ice melting from dingy rooftops.
My words
Reach into the depths-
The inner workings of the mind.
So subtle
Are their whispers,
They remove us from this world.
We are the bubbles in a glass of water
Gone stale.
We find ourselves bound
Within the crimson labyrinth of our minds
Where views are distorted.
We are held captive
To drift on the sea of my creation.
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