[P i n n a c l e]

'a bookshelf'


as i arose to see the sunrise, to explore my new home
the apartment i bestowed, concealed a cell i lept to rome
i slowed, and found myself, in a room no larger than a closet
the only light that showed was once my cigarette was lit
the smoke embossed silhouettes, my eyes squinting to look
the nook to which i faced, stood a loaded shelving full of books
i shook from coldness, as i noticed, a book that caught my eye
nothin special that i noticed, no different colour, age or size
but magnetised, towards the texts, i felt a tingle just to touch
my grip became a clutch, my heightened heart beat formed a rush
of such a power, that i sped with haste to the front door
so quick infact, the fag i clawed, slipped and had fallen to the floor
i sat upon the porch, i closely took the scripts and stared
as my glare settled on the title, or at least it wud if one was there
a sort of redish grey, the tips and edges stained, were torn an freyed
its skin was coarse to feel, but what a beauty its craftsman made
half afraid, but just as anxious, to behold the inards of the scripts
a longing to enjoy, the stories, an wonder of the journeys an the trips
my finger lifts a page, as i gaze, at the oppening words an signs
to discover not a tale of adventure, but a young rappers book of rhymes
as my pupils climb each page, not a single movement from my eyelids
i read the words, each verse it forms a picture of fuscias, blues n violets
crylettes forming in my mind and eyes, the beaty, forms a tear
the perfect wordplay forming images, each multi crisp an clear
each stanza fills my ears with music, i become submerged in words
as every punchline my sides they hurt, and there is no meta too absurd
as i contemplate meanings on each page, minutes then hours turn to days
days then weeks an months to years, but noticed that still i havent aged
my daze had made me sleep, 40 winks, dreaming of jumping sheep
but farmyard animals only seconded, to the rhymebook i still keep
awoken by i pungent smell, like toast too long thats burnt an dried
startled i spin around to witness, licking flames 40 feet high
after the reddies, came and gon, i see my houses charred, regret
as i take a thought to reconcile the cause, my fallen cigarette