I: Song for the Demented#
The lucky few who taste the hemlock blue!
What fortune swings by neck from noose and nail!
A minute gone their lives are bid adieu,
Thus spared the withered touch that ages frail.
For choicer cuts, then Time will stalk the mind
In steady-stepping slow-revealed deceit,
As hunters know to never scare the find,
Unless the marbled fright infect the meat.
The body strung, then drained through veins of thought,
precisely sliced at joints, the self is sluiced,
its dripping threads, the wave of burning hot
reserves of life, in air to steam reduced.
Resolving boundaries release their hold,
The crease of memories dissolves in fold.
March 2025
Date |
Publication |
Status |
|---|---|---|
June 25, 2025 |
The Aftershock Review |
Pending |