I had a vision in my mind, 
contemporary at great scale, 
modish like a robotic flare, 
stylish like her loose curls into a messy updo. 
State of the art. 

Inner peace seems to crawl elsewhere with my need, 
like a past crisis' war cry demolishing the grind, 
deduced by the perky aims, 
by virulent rations 
like a civilized light bulb swallowed up by the smoke. 

I caught a sternutation like a black hole, 
expulsions of air like a titan's blow 
out from a cape 
insinuating a herd of goblins like a carafe gown. 
Breathless of the spirit like an empty cloak. 
Life has made a ephemeral ingle to hide beneath a bed of fowls. 

Transliterated engines, 
coals and breaks, 
sliced by the end of a brick. 
Tamed through the hopeless guidance of insecurity. 
Too many familiar odd culprits. 
Too far forbidden. 
Like the mass of a grand canyon, 
a mountain multitude. 

Two howls, 
except for a grievous stop 
the exchange growls like a white wolf overflowed by egos 
to plead for a dirty fence like a moldy metal on a tooth's bite. 

My life became a ferocious petal, 
falling like a meteor through the wind's bark.