Modern Romanticism

Relaying a message,
receiving failure, once more
in its futile attempt.

I've been waking up
to hear your call,
screaming in the silence,
pacing after the expression
of unmatched violence.

What can I wield,
if not a torch to illuminate
all walls in this heart?

A sword will cut down
those shadows that linger,
blocking this path,
where I wander.

Burning through electrical
circuits of a fuming mind,
while I tell a tale,
almost backwards.

While I retrace
what I borrowed,
from the dust,
I continue to wait
until the pain seizes me.
I continue to undo
all I cannot keep from
its eventual disappearance.