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Nightshade of Cynicism
Rainbow armadillo
Burrow through berry bush,
Staggering in moonlight
Tattered broken thrush
Pick out sinister nightshade pellets
From every little crease
Pour forth unbroken misery
We all know that release
Comes in fulcrums snapping shut
Angles cutting closed
Pain inward relieved in outward thrust
Scathing thorn of rose
Bleed my body electric
Tiny pitterings eclectic
Fragments of kaleidoscope clatter out in a stream of red
Colliding with divine volition
Exploding prisms exploding with their unitary master
Crayon drops cerulean, melted wax for glass
Pooling in daggers and dances of darkness
And bright unrelenting, the space still unharnessed
Wind chimes nudging forth pristine sighs
Sounds that glimmer and fall down on beat with diamond shimmer
Light weaves a quilt, blurry blue beams moving in cylindrical spirals
around invisible scaffolding, cartoon race of dompard uncertainty
I feel purple toxic falling down rushing down sending signals through the medium
Screaming sent through veins and fingers fight defunct dead tedium
Cynical sword, lay bare your neck
Point to yourself, you colossal wreck
Let the berries rest exposed
To the frosty night air
Let the thrush see our wounds
Only then will we care
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I dislike cynicism.
For reference, since I included a protologism:
Dompard - of a contrived nature that is noticed by its audience as contrived, but still accepted and even expected. Etymology: my synesthesia, the necessity for a word that is both blue and red and circular