A Session of Smoke and Ale.

The fire burns
the ashes burns
the head goes in for a spin
to a vortex which sheds reality.

I seek a cold ale
to subvert the dimensions
to escape from its wretched walls
of nothingness.

In a land of smoke,
I seek feathers,
rather than satiable grounds
cause I have been there,
my history in way of your memory.

A rain of ale
A rain of memories
A rain of wishes undone
A rain of regrets regretted.

Help me, with everything you can.
If you can,
If you all can,

Our dominion is doomed,
but the night is ours,
the shadows are ours.
We were ours
once.

Now we are for them,
we were,
Why didn’t we realize?

A Lattice of Memory

The links are an illusion
the lattice is just
a thread of veins
that hold, a fragile old bottle
of sanity.

Some say, the lattice floats
in blood.
Some feel, it drowns
in dreams.

How do you beset a vision,
that contains everything
and maps nothing.

Its eyes do not work,
like us, it sees what it seeks.
It feels what it needs.
It dreams what it dreams.