Overwhelmed was I in the triumphal
company of that evening,
an evening so aglow in it's own
cheerfulness, glorious,
tempting me to toy with ideas
trapped in untruths.
 

Yes, these I invited in mutilated
fragments, gorgeous.
Unscathed these came without toiling 
for any passion,
wearing a faint beam of docility,
convulsing dexterously.

A quaint mind queering so many 
versimilitudes of truths,
that absurdly needed painful doses
of laudanum.
Illuminated through the dreams
I always distanced from
these visited me subconsciously 
as a lulling nightmare.
 

While the sordid acclamation dawned
upon me in frozen interruptions,
with nervy gusto, I dared the delusions
to confront me soberly.

While grotesque imagery feigned
longing for masked oblivion,
I condemned the amorphous diminution
jettisoning my designs.

The shadowy nymphs irked me off and on
an unending story,
like a lily drowning selflessly in a watery
pond of terless tears.
My chivalry gazed at undecorated asymmetries
of the evening,
while her icy crookedness tantalized the
eloquence of ageless seers.