As I

i thought about writing
a suicide note

what it will say
if anything

to whom it will be addressed
if anyone

what each person will think
if anything

most people
will never find out

alas
there is no cause for alarm

we are here

we are gone

i have no wish
to see the sun

i know what role this life permits me

only in death
is freedom found

i do not need to be remembered
to be free

. . .

i love you.

i love you like a dying star
loves a midnight sky
through eyes of innocence

the wrath of time’s restraint
it paints the moon
as i lay silent

casting off abandoned scars
and erstwhile sentiments unsung

in shadows of our truths untold

let me not spiral
into such hollow affectations

of this entropy transposed

so grave is its disparity
in remnants
left behind

written on walls
in exile unseen
surrendered

to the aftermath
unknown

with nothing
left
to say

we languish
in our broken idyll

so duly run its course

as i

Tales Untold

forced
into a crowded room

never
will that moment leave me

savagely
they barked their orders

all but one
was made to follow

unable
for reasons unknown

still
they beat him

heavy metal
tracers did surround his face

wailing
like a dog
in death throes

begging
for some form of mercy

slowly
it kept creeping toward me

his ever growing pool
of fresh blood

finally
it stopped

until they dragged him
to the room adjacent

ragged stewards
rushed in with mops

frantic to erase
the cold truth

blaring from the
windowed hallway

still
they struck him

struck him
still

never
was there any question

this man
had done nothing wrong

all that they had seen
was black

the color of his human flesh

for what it seemed
he surely passed

neither the first
nor the last

silent
is the call for justice

plastic badges
shine as gold

exacting
their will
at leisure

as black men suffer
tales untold

Hollow

this pithy endeavor

shadows of dust
masquerading through time

i looked away
laughing

returning
to barrenness

the warmth
of her touch

once
insisted eternity

how quickly
it vanished

seen
through open eyes

this sand
shifts beneath us

swallowing memories

until we are hollow

devoid
of our sentiments

i still walk beside her

footsteps
in spectral snow

when all
turned to nothing

and she was no longer

and i

left behind

[image credit: Odilon Redon]

Precipice

stranded
between the contrast
defining the moon

a face
e’er blazoned
to man

dark
and unseen

vibrant
and garish

either
is not
what it seems

Apropos Creation?

sometimes in life
it’s all you can do
not to hang from the end
of a dangling noose
when ideals falter
from altered epiphanies
self-imposed litanies
taunt us as truth

reasons unclear
hearken feelings concise
as we slowly succumb
to scopolamine nights
on a hollow dimensional plane
of feigned platitudes
sorrowful vice
desperate pleas seeking quietude

labeled as sacrilege
should we repair
to undo the heedless act
of summoning us here
where an iron fist reigns
with such ironic scrutiny
e’er you should mention
proactive acuity

still, none dare question
’til quietus calls
of that which our parents
paid no mind at all
the stigma, long-standing
insists these facades
are gifts that cannot be revoked
but by god

how oddly beholden
to cognitive bias
that we forgo logic
and deign ourselves pious
to then misappropriate
most hypocritically
fate in itself
with such flagrant defiance

if only our efforts
were aimed toward reality
instead, we sacrifice all
for mere fantasy
lacking the merit
to make the distinction
between fact and metaphorical depiction

we must make the choice
to adhere to a mindset
consisting of ethics
not pandered by pretense
for should we persist
to exist with such dissonance
life itself will soon submit
to obsolescence

[image credit: Louis Wain]

Missing

i am
overtaken

by desolate space

once warmed

by the presence
of a comrade
now absent

surrendered
to emptiness

pray not
this
vacant eve

Lost Expression

all that i desire to say
can be found lost in my expression
enshrouded by archaic airs
arbitrary to my intentions

are these conscious thoughts of truth
in conflict with my hidden layers
or is it pretense so aloof
driving rifts through solemn lair

this much i may never know
and such it is i must accept
that all i might forever show
should be not what my heart reflects

Chaotic Pedantry

these, my thoughts
a plague of vague and divergent plagiarizations
indiscriminately pilfered in epic proliferation

culled and culminated
an insipidly loquacious clamor
pulling at the seams
of a precarious defenestrator

sonorous disquietude
of pointless quips methodical
poised with impropriety
imprudently parodical

pondering the response
spurred by unintended implication
posed from every angle
with fastidious consideration

formulating fears quickly forestalled
and then falsely inflected

internalized dialogues
disseminated and dissected

infiltrated by effusively
flourishing fantasies

in fluctuating malformations
of infernal lunacy

frantically then bantering
a bevy of inbound semantics
transmuting juxtapositions
chaotic thought pedantic

poring over every nuance
with a painstaking precision
lamentations
over lingering lexical aberrations

an incessant onslaught
of neurotic errings syntactical
cringing at the notion
of the permanence of erstwhile drivel

ever ready to unravel
by mere random incidence
so unwittingly interweaved
with arbitrary intermittence

why must it be so
that my mind never ceases inundating
every thought that fills my head
with copious neuroticisms

moored and then mechanically mulled over to such mundane measure

maladaptations of mind-numbing malefic discomfiture

omnipresently presaging
prominently ominous

a vomitous slew so profusely foul and insalubrious

besotting of verbosely vulgar surreptitious linguistics
repetitious literary folderal inefficacious

unrelentingly attending all obsessive inclinations
descending into grammatical quandaries sans hesitation

requisitely structured with laborious alliteration
assonance and consonance or else subjective condemnation

were that my implores could ever be expressed externally
surely they would lock me up then quickly throw away the key

cognitive calamity at this degree of grave affliction
begets one naught but a ticket to the mental institution

left bereft of any hope for one’s existential salvation
in an exile of the vilest form of human deprivation

i must then be heedful in revealing my indisposition
if you would excuse me from thus furthering this exposition

Daydreams

some days
we long to be killed
more than others

to save us
from spilling
our secretive druthers

in rum-soaked confessions
to loathsome ex-lovers

or nameless encounters
with strangers uncovered

shamelessly asking for help
from our mothers

whose salt stings the wounds
from the womb to the gutter

whose ruinous choices
left pagans to shudder

impetuous voicings
so flagrantly uttered

lugubrious lamentations
seethe and smother

you see
i have neither the will
nor the the wanting

to languish in suffering
ever so daunting

i rather prefer
to bestir to the coffin

and slough this infernal coil
right the fuck off then!

[image credit: Edward Honaker]

In Life

machinations
of the mind
maligned
by self-imposed design
the designated driver
of a maladaptive
disposition
dislocated sediment
intent on masochistic dreams
essential to the martyrdom
indoctrinated by a matriarch
of drastic sadist aspect
etched upon
wretched projections
usurped by alienation
parchment poisoned
by a plucked pen
paraphrasing false-inflections
pulse diminished
inquisitions
redress of aloof forsaking
rooftops shunned
by dawn’s awaken
caustic disclaim
trained on trauma
interred at the infirm
spun of silk
encased chrysalis
incrementum in reverso
verses of accursed squalor
umbral indigent
in freefall
following in footsteps
fading faster than
the self-effacing
imbrue of inebriation
seesawing with undulation
diametric poles
in flux
de facto devolution
folding inward
on the precipice
event horizon somnolent
a fate inferred
and self-fulfilled
through flustered blurs
of blighted pills
spilling the inner-light
and stirring dust to volant heights
in violent hues of tapered will
through eyes of silent dearth
and death as breath escaping
flights of fury
cilice of a soul
unfurling life
like crimson shed
in water
blissful skies of sought ensconcing
molded by the want of naught
but for the promise
of demise eternal
more than earned
in life

[image credit: Harry Clarke]