midas of a new era

the some from the train
like a cloak in the rain
and the spider-webbed
rope bridges dwindle
into cloudy half-existence;

a train of people, yet,
never enough to build
an ocean; we are a
species of lost
mountain springs;

now look me in the metaphor,
find me teeming with incandescence;
midas of a new era,
i set everything i touch
on fire;

your smile is red,
my heart frozen blue,
yellow memories
and the rain in the heartbeat,
every breath on my shoulder

says ‘run’ in a million unfamiliar versions;
the words, they jump from page to page,
look them in the eye, hallucinate
a thousand and four perfect worlds;
slow combustion is an art…

T. E. Pyrus

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