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

His bridges adust, trembled under the weightlessness of quotidian, phatic chatter; threatening, promising, a benighted isolation

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

When finally, behindhand, whithersoever he lies, he shall relent

art: (untitled) by Zdzisław Beksiński

Slight

slight of mind
from others blind
slipping grip, and left behind

bear nine tail
no pleading wail
shifting whip, of self assail

slight the land
oft then brand
slitting drip, will not withstand

noose the pall
with echo’s call
splitting lip, his id befall

scars and stains
of shattered brains
stripping thrip, of what remains