Gouge the eyes
with visions
I have loved,
and the burning despair
that perchance
I would have anticipated,
had the future’s
narrow path not been
so destructive.

It replaces what I said,
a triumphant fantasy,
a knave to the great
drifting ego
that distresses me

I cannot understand
the dirty smoke,
the illusion,
the labouring state
of those flames;

the entrancing lovers
who would
take these empty eyeballs
and gouge those visions
into them;
a burden not shared
by senses
but imposed
by humanity’s
wretched
plague.

It is the past
wherein sadness
and ease comforted
the very passions
we cast upon those
around us;

we know not the dim
grey places,
the recesses,
the tombs
wherein we shall
decompose.

I speak an unearthly abstraction;
thinking,
believing,
hoping the abstraction’s
not premeniscent of what
is to come.

I travel far away
from where the threats of
such dreams belay;
far,
far,
clamoring for a precipice

from which to jump

and end
the haughty solitude of
a spirit trapped
within a life I never
wanted.

Author Rating: