Pan

 

devil-may-care attitude

delusions of grandeur

nubile nymphs

psychopomp

 

 

purple cones on sticky flowers

make him forget recent memories

He doesn't care about what he looks like

which is why he stays so young

it would kill him to remember all the babies he took halfway to heaven

sing softly John Crue

all ideas of sex or fashion have gone out the window

 

 

Coming out from the jungle's edge

There is a cove with hot blue foam

and he can see to the bottom

alligators diving and frowning

with blonde haired mermaids

look up from under the water's surface

who's eyes get bigger and bigger

and the only reason his skin stays with him

is because he shows no fear

and the beasts love him for it

like one would love the sun

 

the fairies are like a drug that keeps on giving

he wants to be with them and they with him

floating always in front of his face

so that young friends may be distracted from disillusionment

and never dare question his fantasy

with thoughts of pushing Narcissus's head

lovingly and slowly into the water

so that he may journey further than just a kiss

with the water's skin

and drown salvation from falling white petals

turned invisible like the fairy's wings

lost in color

 

the smell of lacquered wood, blood, and beer

all conjure strange emotions

that must be instinctively killed with a sword

thrusting its edge into the grey haired bellies of jolly bald men

who would soon enough blink twice to see his beauty

and blind it with temptation

gems, spice, and golden clocks

and oily old faces wrinkled with thought

the smell of something dreadfully human

the blood on his sword never sticks

and candles are lit only to become fires

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