as the son
of a sadist
unsworn servitude
has withered my will
and left me
to brood
for sorrow is certain
through self-sabotage
existence
a sentence
of sordid mirage
as the son
of a sadist
unsworn servitude
has withered my will
and left me
to brood
for sorrow is certain
through self-sabotage
existence
a sentence
of sordid mirage
the endless hour
unravels
we writhe
under the moor
as earth arrives
unsung in reverie
fateless,
evermore
at once
the sun had risen
through sanity’s remorse
our faces
worn
amidst the arbors
lost
within god’s door
when i cannot
quell this chaos
kittens call
to calm my nerves
droves of prismed clouds pileus
gather in the distant stir
auric airs of heirs ailuric
stirring purrs on beds of fur
fucking hell
i love my kittens
foremost
i doth e’er aver
curse this whole contrivance
where our pen perverts our thoughts
bastardizing our expression
into ostentatious dross
which, indeed, is most ironic
even now, i must abide
by the terms of its imposing
despite how it makes me writhe
were it only that i could resist
the pretense of the mind
set upon me with insistence
i am loathe not to comply
for the state of my affliction
disallows for deviation
from its ardent homeostatic
cognitive disposition
so beholden to its power
though emboldened by the hour
i am helpless to assert my will
and thus, i lay here, dour
such finite truths
shall yet unfurl
as we await
unwitting.
the tragedy
of days, unending
the trill of earth afoot.
how tender
is the untrained eye
which falls
upon the burdened hallow
writhing
in its sense
of self
to leave this place
no more.
allow these failings
fear no loss
for freedom
bears no will
i trust.
in tenses past
imploring, e’er
with sovereignty
forsworn
if anything
i’m duly adamant
in my deciding
on the certainty
with which i know
i never knew a thing
for if i had
and still proceeded
with such heedless choices
one could only ascertain
that i too
am human