RMC

My faculties have faulted
the brain pulses but the heart
is a lot of things it’s not,
vaulted mine will never part.

Keep this pedestrian
childish bore abhore
for I have seen the floor
and look past it once more.

The blood rushes to the head,
and bled sinners are fed
because though the soul emotes
all the heart has said.

Drag me to my fresh earth,
innate and fined tuned I find
traces of Gold and little trinkets
that whose worth is divine.

Memory fades I’m swayed
by the curves in your soft lips
as the sun sets I delay
for the pillows to rest my quips.

Free as a bird and still award
I do truth impugned in a room.
My word I am not ashamed
my words they make me alive soon.

Not enough that trite things bite,
why do they don’t have a clue
of any moral compass I relive trite
things I shouldn’t ought to.

Bring me to light and forge
all that is happy bring it more.
For the door is such a thing to explore,
do you want less or more?