The Gold Rush

Dreams in the backyard of a soul
May sharply rise and strike the mind
Turn the golden statues into coal
And leave the conscience far behind
Poseidon pierces the gentle skin
And procreates the tearing sin
The chasing anger still endears
Reminding of the deepest fears

It must be lonely
The Gold Rush banes
It's mine, and it's only

The Eros's arrow, full of light
Is blackened by the serpents' bite
The creeping spawns of Hera's rage
Which can't be anyway assuaged
The providence plays the false chord
And breaks the voice of a morning bird
Awashes the nature's songster
A heart is gobbled by the Green-eyed monster

A barb wire braids the candid eyes
To bring the undeserved demise
The soul’s pushed out to the noisome bog
With no lights around to pierce the fog
Topaz's faint smithers smell like scree
Wiped out by the first spring stream
Bovary proclaims the spirit's schism
With the horn of reckless solipsism

It rips my veins
It must be lonely
The Gold Rush banes
It's mine, and it's only

There’s no hope for you.