Post prism
Depression
Angular dissension
Grandiose
A delicacy, a toast
For those lacking light the most
And so I drift away, to a place I once knew so very well,
A universe unlike this one, a place where homes are carved in stone,
Where troublesome letches rove the dark extensions
Hours in comatose
Stumbling cross the craggy fray
Middling moments
Of great reverberation
Songs of echoic chants repeat their play
Over and over, again and again
I can’t get their words out from my head
Fur placed by river’s shore
In the water I reflect upon atrocities
So soon forgotten despite their retention of warmth
Like spores popping conscientiously
I see my face in its entirety
A slow step back brings my frame to focus
And the memories flood my thought canal
Painting cornerstones a myriad of shades
The vivid and the off hue
For an eon it seemed to stand
A frozen man, without
Yet amassing swarms of enemies
Bathed in crimson,
Not just the flesh, but also, the question marks as well
How did this cleansing come to be?
Was it birthed in pleasure or necessity?
What languages speak in tongues like these?
And even the voices shake their heads…
Why has recollection shunned me so?
To steal the process from the skipping stone,
To dwell so far yet ogle my position from deserted throne
Leaving me with only prayers to own
What is the origin of such constructs?
Is it in me, has this been the case all along
Or is it within parts yet to be seen?
Who is the architect of such a mask?
Were these hands meant for callousing?
If so, then why has the subconscious purged remembrance so thin?
Into the crystal wash I walk
The scarlet I desire weakened; pray at all cost it’s forever lost
Upon submersion
How many sins shall wash away?
Where will the currents take them?
Will they regret? Will they every truly go?
Will they feel isolation, as they drift along without home?
Or will their next host embrace their cruel glow?
From phosphorus to dust
From anxiety to life
We wash the crimson clean
Arising, from beneath the fluid screen
Hair compressed to nape
Levity is quiet still; levity may have died this day
Yet/ Reborn I feel/ lighter than I have ever been
