Leon Moon

Then, with a weak hand, he wrote:
‘I must stop dreaming, I am nearly seventeen,
To forge that grand old age bespoke
I mustn't rest in an evocation wisdom has yet seen
...

Condemned to the last subjective death,
Freed by the assessment of sorrow,
Frenzies of glass crystallise a breath
Preserving the final reign of tomorrow.
...

The Earth I find
Is the centre of my mind;
Despite infinity
It shows itself to me;
...

Deprived of her depravity
She relies on for sanity,
She rips me apart so silently,
Crushed by the wind of her armed neutrality,
...

Only If I had the braveries of Dawn,
Where all is possible and all is seen
But I jump out of bed and arch in drowsiness
Putting socks, trousers and idleness all on my suit
...

It turns out, and with all spiritual sincerity, I belong to the Eve of Starvation.
An infinity objectifying its own existence, I slaughter the opportunity of eternal nothingness, weaving flesh from a pendulum struck by a tear of lightning.
Everything tilts but never turns, seemingly capsizing without ever fully being sunk.
This rare moment we call the universe cherishing its own existence is pure negation.
...

Equated to a halo of burning ice,
Navigating wind to find life without stretch marks,
A wednesday morning patheticism, the will for vice
Interweenes barely approachable harps of flesh
...

Frosted mould, maroon tambourine
Doing what it's told
Being-for-birth, consciousness,
Trefoils and quatrefoils pour
...

The giver of the name of Gods
Extracts Dawn
To remain younger for today.
Though the willow spills shadow
...

You're silent. There's too much love to contemplate.
Whatever you say, due to the anatomy of reception,
Is yours to enforce and theirs to forget, or ignore;
If they're scared, they'll laugh or mock you;
...

...

We are the flies that remembered how to light fire;
We camouflage ourselves in darkness, the sea of memory,
Only to chase the light we burn, and blow out...
...

Their flesh is the fear of being mocked in honesty;
I am the transformer of flesh.

In an instant, I can transpire all heaviness
...

...

She doesn't know how to be eternal.
In every action, she infuses attraction,
Pleasure is guaranteed, but she is lost;
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Every man, alone in his dream,
Tormented through suffocation,
Objectified crucifixion,
Carries the dead without ever
...

Unrecognisable to present judgement —
Acutely applicable to the degradation
Of moral satisfaction,
The current character bespoke
...

Filthy remains of a petrified Dawn
Overturn the last of our dead prophets,
5 to 11 decays light to a trail
Leading to a recognisable nowhere;
...

The basic regime of a child scared to look at the Sun,
The thoughts of wasting too much time thinking,
Embodying in mirrors how to act while running outside.
Alone, matching eternity as pride,
...

Even a wolf coughs in disgust,
At the masks howling climax;
Scabs in the sky are picked
And blood drops on Summer Solace.
...