Sixth Sense

The real indication.
My sixth sense
beating down upon engraved laws
the diligent penmanship of my verses.
I crawl dragging my limbs
in direction of a hopeless cause.
I am left to write my story
between his crooked lines;
his sick perverted lies.
I am left assuming
this is all based on queer nonsense
but my trail of anguish
screams repeatedly of bloody anger
So much, my throat gurgles
my nipples harden
my eyes water
my tongue tenses
my fist tightens, tires, then lays tender.

The wounds carry me back
to our thwarted uprooted tree
where I stand staring
at all your treachery
Standing weakly
drenched in mucous globs
polluted tears
as a death purple cloud
woes by these dreams I cry
Weeping in dear trances
I Hope for a new
hope for a few more chances
in another mindset
under other circumstances
Where I can be a blank canvas
a gift to a different painter
who chooses brighter tones of watercolors
So I can start to blossom
from the depths of an honorable heart
A sculptor who doesn't try to change
the art of my blessed sunrise
until it is meant to dusk upon his shore.
Is it too much, I ask nothing more!

I chafe
Study the fresh work of art
Grazing upon my eye
A wanton lip folds with master mystery
A woman reaching in misery
Searching as her passion is naked
An image that stood still
For a second or two or three
Stop right there!
I lost thee!
In the middle of his rotten picture frame
I blame
A dream momentarily shook awake
I blame
The bucket of his stinking blood
poured onto my dying pale crust
The foul blood of a sour coward
transfused into my veins
I blame in vain
A rebel Picasso of this lifetime
A Dali driven even more insane
Trying to rhyme

Couldn't find
The love in thee
The real indication
The real in all that you say you can be
You were all to me
You made me
With your brush strokes and your like pen
As I did to thee
to try to mold a solid companion
a great love, a noble stalion
So I say leave me now
Forever again
Leave me be,
leave my broken canvas
hanging tortuous
on the crumbling wall
but hear this
There is no one who will dance with your senses
burst out of the portrait bringing happiness and glee
even when you don't deserve half the credit
There is no one like my heavenly colors
or like the expression of love in my blueprint
or the fervent potency for all that we were
for all that I thought you would endure
for me, for sure
For God's sake, there is no cure!
Look at what you've done
to ruin the shades of my beauty, so pure
to ruin the loving shapes I could bend into
to ruin the heaven we've been to
to ruin surrender of all that I am
to ruin a devoted life
just to love thee
just to love thee

In not one, or two or three
but in all the six senses
I discern you never honestly loved me