she wears the tiara of muse as if the sun doesn’t glint from the jewel encrusted band to blind her as she strides across the landscape of my mind with gentle steps to crush all meaning from my lack of understanding yet each time she gazes at my wonder she only sees the gears spinning to incorporate her majesty into the desolation of the lack of character that defines me

the mechanical click clack punctuated hisses of steam as the pendulum swings back and forth

yet the clock face never shifts in the discomfort of trying to stop time

the simple act of abhorrently denying the base needs of basic necessity is rusty nails along the chalkboard of eternal misery

she tiptoes across the stagnant flowerbed of my misunderstood menagerie as if she is the unicorn to my virginal denial of anything less than man-made perfection in natural selection

she sends the words to scatter like flocks of incontinent sparrows over the barren fields of where once grand forests stood haughtily absorbing the nurturing light of a sun gone nova to seer the earth in waves of radioactive spite

nocturnal transmissions from the poetically correct yet emotionally detached retina of blind loyalty to cover the spectrum of rancid electronic dismissals

in that one moment of still nothing that lays undefined between truth and plausible self denial she hovers with a benign smile that no arrow of insufferable acknowledgement can hope to pierce

heavy is the head that wears that shame forged tiara to brand her muse to the emptiness that thrives at the edge of nuclear paranoia and near erotic bouts of manic drive

a testament to the power of positive doubt

she stands