In retrospect, I should be grateful, for
Being given the chance to witness
Scribbled extensions of undeciphered labor
Where figures posed in lines of incantations
Were carved as illusory caves of historical
Hysterics on breathable skin parchments,
For I’d have never learned to transpose
The technical aspects of applying those
Specific pressures on zinc plated panels.
I should be grateful, that the time I spent
Searching for healing lines weren’t wasted
Then why is it that I feel like crying
When I think of how I’ve lost images of his faces
When I still have these lines that fill up these pages
Even while silent whispers of finally met passion’s keep calling my name?
Then the susurrus of familiar experiences soothe
In how it didn’t seem so vastly different in its birth
Of each of those misstroked hatchings.
But it was.
An instruction guide
Or tutorials displayed
Efface their opponents,
Dismantle then restructure,
Adjust and adapt to rules.
Wielding a knife
Is the quickest way
I’d cleanse myself
Of the mystic
Tolls you left
Like the last time
I tried to forget.
Of silhouetted contours
From hatched outlines
In mimicking craft
Forms of commanded silences
Derived from ideologies
Of Truth is Law;
Moments of momentous mementos
In destructions of unfounded wooden
Lodges with wedged in reasoning.
Enigmatic enmities of rebuttals
Of rebellious refusals reflecting
The absence of the prescribed.
Repeated bolts of heightened acuity
Fiercely quell repudiations
By irrefutable evidence
When facing the sagacious
In strikes of stark realisations
In learning reliable consistencies
Repetitive leaden defeats leading
To admittance by amicable amities
Of words blindly accepted;
Reframed as idolatry.
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,
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.
You’re over thinking it
Or is it
The others thoughtlessness
Matched against yours.
For a long standing joke.
But the origin?
What do those words mean?
Is that a fragment of their hidden ideology
Or is it mindless drivel that can be disregarded
As empty words
From empty vessels.
Or are you over thinking it
Are you the one that needs to stop
Because the nonsensical
Or is it all
Beating vacuumed chambers
Desensitised to the feeling
From clotted valves
To those words of mist.
Dispersed at miniature shores
And miniscule mountain tops.
Betwixt atomic regions
None the wiser,
Fail to consider