Kingdom Come
Sometimes too much sunlight
renders sparks upon my vision,
'til my peripheral grows tired
and I retreat in mind and silence
to back alley streets
hosting scent of old blood,
where life crept in
so fast it sung violence.
I'm fascinated by traces
of sound between ticks
in our clockwork.
The things unseen,
spreading cracks without notice,
ever shaping our dreams.
I'm looking for monsters
in the places that belong to them,
the patterns to glean
from unwanted thread.
Would you come find me
in the spaces you dread?
Then I am yours,
and you're my King.
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