Posthumus

Elucidating facts built upon delusions of grandeur.

The score of death muddling on an out of tune piano.

The squeaky keys pulling seconds upon heartstrings…

That should not have existed as reality has bent upon itself.

A tesseract grown by fabrics of thought, weaving hysterically

With desiccated optimism only a child’s ill foolish ideals allow

A calligraphy of music multiplied by scent, overtaken landscape.

Rapture by both ceasing and continuous chain linked locks

Has allowed fact to seep through, settling as diamond dust