Lost — Amyss

Daecho Park

In the gains towards winning I lost my inside, sinning,
shining bright gold; award brimming, from the eternal-self; sinning,
calibrate my decision, it weighs heavily, tipping my feet,
don’t touch the ground, I am so — very — cold.

Brimming with satisfaction, relationships condone, brink of disaster,
you held my finger — tips, let go far too soon, at dusk, at noon, 
I strain in the monsoon — my season; travel and soak in rain, 
sliding down the mountain with clay, absorb my delay, I am too fast —

Below ground they hold my place, upper realms in this realm,
ghosted by the past; I shall never speak of how lost I am,
parted waters with the Moses of coalition, Illuminati shall forgive me,
I walked the checkered floors, I sweep the gentle devil.

My absorbance is romantic; I romance I am the player,
thereby the courts are mine, I remain Queen and all consuming — 
tide me over,

gentle waves; far away I require the perpendicular sky, wash me away,
gentle ways, never my ways, I beat competition like the awakened cobra,
pouncing on fragility, ephemeral and eternal, God — like — creation,
understanding every part of me is aligned with disillusionment, 
I reject myself, accept in the public eye, I wander far to reach the desert,
where contemplation is of the blue sky, pry,
pry me open, canister, darling — pry me open, I am but an adolescent,
cloning sheep in the name of science,
my science, my silence, my sentience,

all confound in great mysteries;
the 9th convulsion, you will know when I arrive,
I shall be the fragment carrying the sword.