Broken Does as Broken Is

Watching noir in the cracked rearview / petrol pools beneath moonlit dew

A fire’s rage berates his prayer / too late to save, too lost to care

Carnage lies in forward cast eyes / ever drawn whither madness cries

Afraid to live, but scared to death / a swell of questions, yet naught to quethe

A siren’s wail then splits the night / enticing hope, and horror’s bite

She proffers hand, the offer lingers / ‘fore kindness turns to dagger fingers

His broken head can’t bear the bait / as justice deems, just blood will sate

So pressing hard, his essence low / for all a broken gift bestow

To swallow smoke and ash and ember / to spare the world, who’ll not remember

art: psychodelicious by Peterio

The Deadening

Memory is the bane of impermanence, and impermanence, the enemy of memory

His salivating eyes dine on the beforeward and afterward, hungry for what was, never was, and shan’t be

Straining against the current, he’s awash with sins of the past, for to take away the pain, would be to suffocate

Survivor’s guilt for this one, who undeservedly exists; while the living embrace the breadth of his present wasted

The bridges adust – trembling under the weightlessness of quotidian, phatic chatter – threaten… promise… his benighted isolation

He thus awaits, overmorrow or what then follows, the numb of decay and sublime windchimes to perturb his silence

When behindhand, whithersoever he lies, he shall relent

art: (untitled) by Zdzisław Beksiński