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

Dirge

Inward dirge, humility’s mile…
Mantric disdain, recalibrated
for insanity, a congeries of bone
and flesh where then hatred

dwells; Cords of frazil – twisted
ruby liquorice – taut, icy ribbons
transporting choler; Systolic
tensions reverberate in echoic

pizzicato, timed percussions for
this soul’s requiem in æternum;
Quiescent imprecations chivying
volatile verses into concussive

choruses; A self-mutilated mind,
cauterized by vajra, tends toward
transposition & discombobulation,
misplacing threnodies amongst the

keening notes; Pages upon pages
of tablature obfuscating wide,
vanilla eyes, as pupils weaponize
soporific songs into mental torpor;

Serenaded by a reflective elegy, an
amalgam of evidential awareness
and ebon conclusions, he’s reduced
to ashes, dispersed by lamentous om

art: by Eric Lacombe