Untitled 6

I dare not

and so I am damned

cannot find the will

disturb the feather thin membrane of my sleep

lift my head

unseated from the hollow of night terror erosions

I daydream of tragedies,

milk them,

roll them in my mouth

lips slightly parted

savor the scent of them,

allow them room to breath

heavy with the sweet musk 

of dire anticipation

Burn my bridges


harden my eyes

slaughter the jester

there is only room here for one fool

my fate

this suicide by atonality

no stranger I to the sound of upended pianos

wield the chisel

substitute stone for flesh

carve along the fault lines

the work guided by its parts

stained glass healers

kailedescopic visionaries

remagined as abstractions

summed, totaled through reduction

Touch a hoof

assume a devil

deceptive truths terrible and honest

pressgang them into service

work will set them free.

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