The Grey Kingdom III

The clear square tears his ears as if a pair of shears / Impaired what would ferry and carry fairy airlings through our hero’s sphere / A glare is theirs but very scared one rears un-sparing spears / That nearly sear whose daring is more fearless than the fiercest bear’s / So there he steers, comparing gears and blaring bearer’s flares / With sheer despair’s a tear appears parrying where i’d pierce his wear / Prepared he wears on where a weary swear he hears is shared / His sneering beard is smeared ensnaring hairs with fairer feral care/ “Beware his barrel” (gun shot) In the scuffle he pulls his knuckle / The bullet bust(s) through the muscle and removes a chunk or two from him / His fluids’ sputtered pool’s puddle oozes to under his shoes rubber / His drool’s bloody “it's too sudden” loses color and droops becoming it / Soon there’s nothing…………………… but a tooth in front’f’im / Two pull and one of them scoops to covet what’s loose from gums and is / As useful as thumb prints, movement’s tough with each grueling function / Slowly up he stumbles woozily as if drunken to how the cruel the sun is / “Ooh it burns”. Blindness, behind his eyelids on his iris / Are his horrors hours out of darkness when tomorrow’s sparkling / Orange aura’s ardor starts to warm the water’s arm discharges / His cartridge had carved chests and cartilage in their karma’s carnage / He barfs a large mess caused by the stink of rotting carcass / Mixed with the stench of the garbage cartons that’s thickened by the fire’s harshness / He squints and marches limping farther startled still by our star’s glint / Then trips and falls stiffened, garments dripping onto where car’s skid / Black… then there, a man in an ambulance / On a chair at a slant and barely catching any panting breaths / For air to get to him random paramedics put their hands on him / And spare him from a phantom’s stare of deadness, in a transient blend / Of awareness with the trance-like ‘mare his head’s in while they’re transplanting / His carriage to a managed caree’s section of the damage den / A caramel tinued damsel’s sterile utensils connect his branded skin / Never a twinge. “The name’s Clara.” says her with a handsome grin / And for a moment light becomes of her glowless grayish blur / But changes for worse from snowy brightness unto the stone-esque shade it was first / His face then turns to what’s broken knives cut both that painfully heard / It frames a certain someone pointing higher so they may converse / Away that person jumps and boldly flies up towards the place she works / He exclaims: “Where’s my stuff, my clothes”. She signs him to where most hang their shirts / Naked, the nurse uncomfortably closes eyes, he goes to exchange the skirt / And is erased when hers come to open widely. “Oh but wait you’re hurt!” / …After he departs, when our planet’s axis arcs / What lasts of our vanishing star is tannish orange for latter parts / Of astral art. His half is parked where he’d asked he embark / And the flapping scarves of their masking tarps dance and lark / As he answers: “Hark! Your path is smart but rather hard / And these drastic sparring matches are what have you marked with battle scars / Yet your practice mars the savage hearts of who attack and harm / So when a badge is sparse you’ll grant them war, you’re the “Shadowguard””. / (shadowguard, shadowguard) Is If but a dream? / ‘cause that newer pal just flew through clouds, though in this city he’s seen / Some unusual nouns with inhuman prowess that exist in his streets / Congruous gowns but super powers are the difference between / “What to do now?” Have you run out of any pills for you to eat?” / “It’s true I’ve counted few” his mouth says “You should visit Aziz” / In a swooping bound he shoots down about as swift as what’s breathed / SHOOM’s the sound, If removes his cowl and is what he sees… / (He is what he sees…) and If is waiting where he seeks doses / The shade of his beaten sheet cloak and the paste of Aziz’s bleached coat / Are adjacent so when they bleed slow are grey where they meet and be both / His daze is extreme when he goes to state that: “I really need those” / “Great, please give me a moment”. He skates his seat to what’s feet close / A safe with a secret breach code and a label that reads placebo / He takes it and peals its sleeve off relaying the sweets in a weak toss / “Thanks Aziz”. When he leaves though in his way is his eager ego / “Why keep and hide teeth?” cries he to a lie seen. / “It might seem he’ll try and sweep the crime scene of his ID / But you’ll die fleeing to the side street of the five deceased, his type reaps The finds greed provides each’s lives when demon slime heeds.” / “I’ll succeed” in kind he redefines their team’s design, retreats / And climbs to leap, his mind-reading guide foresees decline “such needless / Pride”. Aziz beside agrees “The guy has freaked.” Behind creeps / Demise for keen are eyes to beings blind from fleeting pipe dreams / So their route’s to his view spot that’s across the street from Shelly’s place / From whereabout the suited cop he’d saw with speed had quickly raced / To the warehouse where the tooth dropped and he lost to the beast who then escaped / He’s there now on that rooftop but his thought streams who already waits / “Beware child, for if you’re shot and fall via a deadly fate / I’ll fare foul and too trot in the hall deemed for men who are slain / If you care about her, choose not, you ought to, please, but if you stay / No prayers from mouths will boost you op, ‘cause crossing me is a big mistake” / Minus the apprehension of grasp on If’s information / Of why he’d have to prevent the exaction of vengeance chasing / He tries to grab him but then he’s too fast so he can evade him / His tiresome thrashing’s spent on the jabs that he gently sways from / His mind reacts with indelibly masterful hitting placement / “Lies.” He bashes his head in establishing skin abrasions / Finally collapsing mentally frazzled and enervated / Subsiding If slackens, and unabashed by decisions made then / He veers, unusually nimble and cuts the sky where blowing winds are formed / This seer’s two feet lift him up and rise afloat a pending storm / The blear of blooming drizzle touches eyes and soaks them when it pours / Which merely mutes the quip If summons snidely his whole intent is scorn / His dear exuberant singer hums the lively notes of several scores / Theory proves much simpler once inspired, no one gets it more / Years removed since her what was white as gold is dimming for / He peers into her window uttering “I don’t know you anymore.” /