02-17-2015, 12:40 AM
Caesura Finem
Dry as diamond, chill ensnares all things from water made;
and me, a cooling corpse of that same fluid, dyed.
What warmth I drew from loves or friends has all but gone;
the last damned drop drawn from a thread-bare vein,
unseen except by some old ego slowly leaving home.
Where is the peace, the promised calm when sound abates,
when even sight recoils, and shivers shake from atavistic scents?
Strange that red is black; slickly dripping from a pallid palm. It is not mine,
nor any part I called my own...but even that, my name for me,
is hidden now. I know so little yet so much; what is there left
to puzzle out or think upon? Perhaps I should know who I am.
We watch the pool spread subtle shapes; look there...a wilder, grander man.
Look there, look there...can you not see...or am I quite alone?
I seem to bleed from old, cold bone yet somewhere rhymes still form,
bright rings of string that flit on oil-quelled seas.
Is this the calm?
I still hear waves
that hiss
then
die.
tectak
2015
Dry as diamond, chill ensnares all things from water made;
and me, a cooling corpse of that same fluid, dyed.
What warmth I drew from loves or friends has all but gone;
the last damned drop drawn from a thread-bare vein,
unseen except by some old ego slowly leaving home.
Where is the peace, the promised calm when sound abates,
when even sight recoils, and shivers shake from atavistic scents?
Strange that red is black; slickly dripping from a pallid palm. It is not mine,
nor any part I called my own...but even that, my name for me,
is hidden now. I know so little yet so much; what is there left
to puzzle out or think upon? Perhaps I should know who I am.
We watch the pool spread subtle shapes; look there...a wilder, grander man.
Look there, look there...can you not see...or am I quite alone?
I seem to bleed from old, cold bone yet somewhere rhymes still form,
bright rings of string that flit on oil-quelled seas.
Is this the calm?
I still hear waves
that hiss
then
die.
tectak
2015