Halls of the Dark Muse

Gossamer Wings

A tear in the gossamer wings
the powder begins to flake away
while flight becomes impossible
only a reoccurring dream
such colors that no longer mean anything
overtime will begin to fade
weighted down by the pressed print made
another's mark born like a brand

A shred of iridescence
no longer each band of vibrance
speaking as one in a single voice
now just guttural sounds
a lesson in aesthetics
how quick anything can be made ugly
with only a twist of asymmetrical disharmony

Tears tumble down
only to wash away the essence
now trapped within the self-made bubble
understanding begins to seep in
how gossamer can decay
and leave in its place
only echoes of former beings
unable to survive outside
psychedelics.