Sages and guardians of my
devastation have sold out to
the highest
bidder.
I gave up reconciliation
to Jack the
Ripper.
Now I’m disheveled at the
molecular
level;
my nuclei have descended
into madness,
static, bitter
battles with
sentient
cytoplasm.
I am an anachronism of
choler,
a solstice over
shadowed,
bi-polar cataclysm,
the preemptive
gallows;
the shallowest
water you
can
drown in.
I was headless before
hallows were recited
to absolve
me
of lightless eyes.
Whatever altruism remains
is in too
much agony
to imagine
sacrifice.
I just want to live
in full colour
once
again.