Sleepy

Agathion is a form of spirit or familiar if you wondering why I ended with that. Just so you don't have to look it up yourself. Oh, and they like pots. Check out the picture if you want at the bottom.

Blow my lights out like poltergeist of shadowed knight psychics reincarnated by the Necronomicon of sardonyx grimoire mirage of cartilage and arteries amalgamation polymerization wary with aromatherapy, hurricane transparent clarity like tranquility’s clairvoyant voices holstered dystopian hope from cornucopia  evoking nomadic gladiators, the scabbard of cadavers avalanche the iron-barred carnival of monarch butterflies harboured carnivores sabotage omnipresent residue of illusionary cerebral crematorium borderlands necromancy of fantasy’s insanity revamping the canvas’ vantage point commanding the rampage of lycanthropy’s enchantress vandalizing the highlands chimera rising maniacal on the horizon’s diaphragm crying amplified choirs through the environments viola asylum twilight rhinestone synthesizing moon’s manoeuvring lunar lunatics of musical institutionalism loopy amusement fermented in the vibrance of homicidal enlightenment wilder than a psychopath’s passionate kleptomaniac wayward phantasia engraved on the plagiarism of an angels gravestone machinations reincarnated the heinous radio-waves vibrating dominatrix apex incinerating vaporous homo sapien maelstrom’s centrifugation unveiled like the payload of sailboat in gale storms rainbow like the warpaint of saint’s brigade eradicating amputating all in the wind’s wake of hatred, an exodus of pandemonium, I blow the candle-flame Agathion out like a brain’s menstruation, apocalypse is a moth in the carbon dioxide apartheid, cannibalized by sunrise

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.