Fickle, repulsive and beautiful and heartful.
As the desires of the heart conflict in white-hot majesty,
Peace is found in chaos and chaos in art.
If death be a performance then for my heart all the world's a stage,
So life means now but to be by the side of the star of the show.
If music be the food of love then slit my throat and drink the sonata of my veins,
For the symphony my heart felt for you could feed a thousand
Though not provide the fanfare you deserve because even my own masterpiece
Could compare to that which you are each and every day.
Lidden eye to Eye of the Watcher,
A temptress to a just cause,
That which is accepted is that which signs the mockingbird
Warrant of the other.
Should both collied and the curtain fall,
When chaos is taught remorse may my fortunes be ever fateful,
Should you be mine among the ashes
When the curtain rises.
A literary nobody with a soulful passion, sculpted by Barcelona and Paris -- horror author turned classical metaphysical, poet Carax writes with a hardened distaste for postmodernism and love of tradition.