A Matter of Traction

Featured art by Mario Sánchez Nevado

Listen to A Matter of Traction by Richard Charles Stevens

Listen to Shelter by ORAX

My eyes were blackest
As the straps on my straitjacket slackened
Appeared a single tear could turn me ashen
With little left to cheer than liquefaction
Felt discontented
No question demented
Yet each breath was scented with passion
Reprised from concise height of fashion
With madness providing the traction

The night was quite barren
Trussed tight in white satin
Pale moonlight was scattered before me
Since the sun came undone
Every one of my actions had told self explanatory story
Details were gory
Long derailed from glory
Yet prevailed to hail the great alpha venturi
Assuring me furore was more than inventory bargained for
Imploring me to cheat the creak of varnished boards and leap towards the sweet reward retreat ignored with no thought to inform me
Reached into the rose
Reposed to bleed as thorns arose
Seeping in the cornerstones
To paint the scene in warmer tones
Warned me that the storm was close
Then dawned on me as twilight spoke

Why had I felt so forlorn
Chosen lords thrown overboard
A Noble cause shown no accord
Control of host thus overhauled
Why had I been so defeated
Reams of dreams foreseen conceded
Cheated of esteem
To such extreme
My gleam had been deleted
Why not buck the trend
Upend the threads condemned that penned me in
Comprehend the senselessness in spreading self respect so thin
Why not try predestining the leverage for second string
To strengthen tendons gesturing success
Why feel so hard pressed to vent
When every stent my heart refreshed
Suggested there were pennies left unspent

My eyes were blackest
With the air of despair squarely set to choke

Had I felt provoked
Then I’d have seen revoked all hope afloat
Smoke arose
Commotion broke
Yet still I made devotion known
Cloaked in shadow
Broken arrows fell about my feet
No need for measuring fatigue
Seemed no more telling gift bequeathed
Than for the death of me to cease to be seen pressing to extreme

This seemed a more compelling theme
As it addressed my pressing need
To dispossess the stress oppressing me
And breathe my next progressively
Still felt discontented
Unquestionably demented
Yet each obscene breath scented vented passion
Reprised from concise height of fashion
With madness to delight for all that jazz, pizzazz and traction

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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