Nonsense Fails in Poetry is the Window to the Soul...

“Nonsense Fails”

She screams into silhouettes,
Burns the incense on the desk,
And I find myself a mortal.
A mortal mess.
When she lingers,
Wanders,
To confess.

This minefield of a dream,
Burns the monsters she believes,
Culls the ancestors of her dreams,
And there’s a moment,
And it’s frozen,
Incomplete.

Tell me, angel, of your past.
Confess and promise,
You are far stronger,
Worth so much more than,
Than your last.

Yet I wander.
And I ponder.
How it is that you,
Repeat the same mistakes,
That permeate,
All your struggles,
All the memories,
Of tearing muscles.
God, this fucking struggle,
Without escape!

Woken abrupt,
Skies corrupt,
And the will is,
Fading fast.
I am,
Frozen awkward,
Moment paused,and,
You collapse.

Tell me, darling,
How is it I am,
Shocking truthful,
Yet so unproven,
Of the very principle,
I pronounce.

And you demand,
Words and actions,
Depicting the very,
Essence,
Of all I embody,
And swore to protect.

Speak to me softly,
How it is I am no longer,
The man you held
So awfully, close,
When your sight was,
So imperfectly perfect –
A heartful cataract.

Perhaps, angel,
I suggest to you,
That you swing strong,
And you love hard,
Because,
I am mortal,
With a flawed coil,
And my breath is,
As your mood shifts,
Fading at a clip,
So very awfully,
Fast.

You are no more celestial,
Than a worn, crafted vessel,
By a lost, terran soul,
In the form of,
An everyday,
Failing man.

Brian Milici
November 29, 2015

I dare you to ever encounter any man that is more forthright, transparent, and true to his word than I am. I may fall, I may fail, but I will always honor you as I do myself and my word. My mother raised a good man. She did at least that right.

Walk away and find better.

You will not.

Est Sularus oth Mithas.
My Honor is my life.