The scepter of the past came swooping upon my present.
It brought with it lustful memories and chunks of intimacy.
I desired not the sweetness of the dessert of Nostalgia,
as much as I craved a vial of venom brewed in bitterness.
The intensity of love turned time to cold, white marble,
and I watched the scepter carve a morbid sculpture.
Grotesque and ghastly, the sculpture and the scepter.
Adamant at procrastinating an impending peregrination,
the scepter resided in the obscure crevices in my mind.
The echo of its shrill laughter making me cringe in agony;
the shadow of the forgotten sunshine making me wither;
the tingling of taste with sweet romance making me choke;
the mirth that had slipped into the past making me cry;
and the sheer flow of Life, conspiring a murder...mine.
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