:rustled:loose:from:conscious:thought:and:left:without:inhibitions:

night at the symphony || music on winds, blown astray -- a spark ignited, a flutter -- the jovial news, conceiving a fray -- flowing past barriers, a stutter -- melody is fleeting, last song -- battered by singing, now mangled -- sound now rises, listeners throng -- the music continues, though tangled

memories can inspire pain || a presence of mind to comfort all disorder -- and possess the weak at heart -- a faded memory of laughter dead on the wind -- thrown back to where the mirth did start -- trailing along amidst the debris -- of castles and kingdoms and broken aspirations -- a wounding deeper than runnings waters -- seeks out a method of vindication

after hours || the air i dare say i'll miss -- but the chill i will not mourn -- as it departs from the frame of the sky -- if this roof were my border reef -- holding captive all cares and wares i utter to a silent night -- gladly would i have no reason to call myself "all alone" -- so though the night might not -- whisper back words or dreams of its own -- the lone silent stare -- of a punched hole in a vast canopy -- will wait, to make certain not a single word flies free from its notice

desolate || when my world is at stake -- thoughts in my head race, furiously fast -- and i decide that, whatever it will take -- my plans, my grand scheme, my safety, they shall last -- i cling to my illusions fiercly, holding tight -- with a vain hope that all will together stay -- using all will, all my power, all my longing, and all my might -- to grasp at a vapor as it slips away -- i watch as the great towers in the landscape of my mind -- crumble and are carried away as dust to the sea -- as my being is laid bare, i realize i find -- the very soul, the heart, the person that is "me" -- for only the proudest of fools, and the greatest of the arrogant -- will look at this earth and declare it stable -- survey your works, your kingdoms, and it is apparent -- that the story of greatness in men in only fable

walk along the beach || he took his shoes off -- and his scabbed feet sank into the sand -- the sky, ink black, covered the scene from outside intruders -- churning water gave the shoreline a lingering kiss -- fingers separated and reaching, he felt the wind -- slip with a whistle in and out of the gaps -- the salt air grasped his senses -- sharp as a blade it captured his attention -- his path marked by moonlight -- he carefully parted the miniature peaks and swirls ahead of him - as he tread in the sand to greet the waves