feet of a cliff

 Veins venomous at vesuvius,
Charming clatters at chaste clay,
Baking into luscious lather,
That scrummages our ears,
For a moment,
When the truth,
Lies across the cliff,
In an envelope,
But the bridge is floating,
Into place day by day,
Through sacrileges,
Through prayers,
Atop naysayers,
Demure skies,
Yet it is adhering to stubborn schedule,
Yet it seems the other cliff has feet,
Ambition in abundance,
Rhetorical stillness to masquerade,
A need for patience,
The bridge is clockwork,
And feet is horizon.

floored

 Irreverent and solstice,
Its where roofs are tucked behind a crevice,
And the crevice blatantly reminds,
Funny faces come with height,
Gloom is an imposed sleight,
fetching muck,
Stuck in tepid silences,
why does the floor smell of home,
But windows stay frosty?
Can I jump out?
Some shards and bleeding,
The signpost shall be new words I am reading..