What We Chose

Reflections of mangled confidences
In incandescent words
Of inevitable losses
Those who sought redemption
From repudiated horrors
Of untimely hours
In muted reveries;
Vaporized voices of intangibilities.

Airtight metal doors locked;
Unresponsive to patterned codes
Of likely misconstrued rhetorics;
Of queasily relinquished prides;
In quizzical encumbrances
In unrequited diminishing vortices.

Anthropomorphically weighed physics
Of bleakly styled truths
Or exquisitely chiseled fallacies.
Where comforted comorbidities
Of mythological redundancies
And existential deities,
Salve.

Spouting extrications of love’s yearnings
Hopelessly behind those locked doors
In layered inquiries of reality, prophecies
And connected scales of measured precisions
Of ethically disapproved pursuits;
Pierced valves of barely perceived incisions.

Here’s a secret,
Morality is whatever I wanted it to be.

Prismatic Glass Parts

Step through this doorway
And you’ll find me waiting there.
Promises made
But are not fulfilled.
You didn’t know her like I did,
This argument rises
In solitary confinement
Tainted with stains
As black veins separate
Prismatic glass parts.
Dark matter lines
Coloured worlds
Of yearnings
Love, deftly tracing
This shattered illusion.
They separate slowly
Rotating, revealing,
Dispersing in microgravity.

But eventually they’ll
Reach the surface
With no force to
Keep them in orbit.
They’ll fall like rockets,
Fragments will shatter
Upon contact,
Unless they burn up first.