Keep toward the front

The obsequious demon of the soul lurks, peeling in and out of its dragonspan. All horses bridled, angled on eastward approach. Nothing more is ever pursued. Every single apparatus they've ever constructed is dragged from behind. All we can see is their flat humble faces, yet unconstructed to our eye. All that's inside the known kept at bay through blanketed augmentation.

I can't keep it all straight anymore. What's left behind lurks into the shadowed palace steps. My sin keeps the listed realities underneath the bright face in front and atop the throne. I just see bow ties, portraits of ancient women, bright red dresses, more bowties, and statues sculpted from the bare prophet's instruction. The fountain tumbles red, a drag from a cigarette, still even, just stay clear. I know things are well.

Where is this new place everyone demands of? It's like nothing can be shared now. The party continues, eating just enough for another moment to begrudgingly appear. Agape releasing silence, trapped into the moment just before. Where will it all be kept at bay? Another kicking comes fast up from behind. No place else to be but here in this windowframe keeping both sides where they belong. Fumes firelit in line with expected consumption. Make sure each unit on the calendar is highlit just tiny enough. Already finding each event in conclusion wondering how to scrape things back into track. Looking again at the lovely bow tie of the command line future. All I see is the white and black blasting together. No confrontation ever making the bill enough to make a whistle beside one final time.