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The Apothecary
Located deep within the bounteous and
fruitful Ambrosia of my medullas' oblongata,
resides my naked imagination
-Feast you on my Dreams
and tighten your meaty fist
around your delicate golden spoon.
-Inflame you on my embers
your passion
purged like the immortal icor
now webbing through your dry veins..
Till the sapless shroud collapses
and scatters into the dry desert sand.
a blind and thoughtless tongue
forages recklessly across
your chin..
the last drop
I like the sense of
I like the sense of addressing your own imagination and, at the end of the address, finding the imagery of the last two lines of the first stanza. The second stanza steps back into a more extreme objectivity, giving us a glimpse of the persona the imagination finds itself in. Wow!
J-Called
The Apothecary
Dig this one too...especially the last stanza...profound...
Thanks for the read..I
Thanks for the read..I appreciate the compliment