The foundation

His light slinks away through the
dormer down, cowardice cleaving
an ever present foundation of
atrament; the vagabond splays

its seductive lumen, as shadowed
steps abet its getaway; the down-
ward darkened stairs impair a
festinated chase to the reproachful

hardwood below; he watches the
trail of unrequited repulsion,
lamenting his apathy to follow;
swaddled in irascible blindness,

he saturates the suffocating silence
with a verbigeration of long for-
gotten importances; a vegetative
brume consumes his perversion of

life, each heartbeat a cheville within
the foundation of miasmic emptiness,
each exhale germinates festering
fissures with dying undergrowth;

sightless, mightless, and lightless,
rooted to wishlessness beyond
hopelessness, he waits until next
his cornerstone crumbles to dust

art: by Eric Lacombe

Thin

It’s thin. The paper lying before
him, and the paperweight’s skin
resting upon it; the depth of the
graphite pressed into the albus

page with the apathetic exigency
of have-tos and owe-it-to-thems;
the kerning and strokes of the
languid letters barely scoring its

surface; the flimsy wording and
porous reasoning behind a veil
of half-hearted half-truths; the
syncopated lips in imperceptible

recitation to the mindless thrall;
the slits wherefrom lacteolus orbs
peer thru the erubescent scarring
of fatigue; the breathing of shallow

waves slowly floating to the shores
of expiry, and receding weaker on
return; the connections tethering
him to consciousness and binding

him to corporeality; the pavlovial
response to a delicate tap on the
door by a deserves-better; the guilt
deliquescing in the darkness, and

evanesce of light into absolution

art: by Christophe Hohler