Premise In Disguise

Cloaked in these shades,/by lesser emotion,/he longed to endanger/a silence of a Sphinx./He grew cold in the station,/he ran past the temple,/he stored all his vices/ in small jugs and vials./He fought off temptation,,/the effort proved useless,/he didn’t care if he was first or second./He was no mere dependent;/he could walk on water,/ he dwells in his basin./One arm was crippled,/a result of adventure,/he cooked up dark chocolates at midnight to eat./Inside a ramshackle figure,/ he hides a gift: his speeches,/ and life everlasting./He paints on his wall, he mocks crosses,/numberless, without intentions./I’ve exhausted my patience,/ \explaining this matter,/I’ve probed much further/than I’m wiling to admit./There is no room for justice;/ I raves as he listens,/he’s meant to outlive the hardy and few./By the cast of the shadows,/an image of his fingers/he’s wearing rings he cannot remove./He told me-Move over-, he left town in a hurry,/right after I heard what he did./He sleep all the time now,/awake; bad habits,/he tossed a saxophone downstairs from his room./My premise removed;/I left the discussion,/no further persecution/a whim of the gods,/sealed in wax,/well in his grasp/ever defiant, ever surly.

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