The Disturbed Poem by Leon Moon

Mirrored thorns, living in deceptions
Of anguish laden animations
Ever pose contradictions
As pure limitations;
The rest is fleeting,
The empire of a forearm,
Lost in virtue of his dream
Set about silently, consecrating;
I was I was, there was no justified desire
In the self-enflamed amusements of a fire
We longed tried to hide from the kiss of a flower eater,
A wind so subtle we barley realise we are feeling warmer;
I cannot go on, without you knowing,
I've waited for you, I am the staircase of your amnesia,
Forced by my own awareness to reflect the glowing
Of a secret electrifying spirals into flesh composing itself to a seizure.