iterations

“Moon VI” ~Lucretious

loose
so this is it
the start
the fraying end
this thread
just a thread
slowly unwinding
untwining
loosing its hold
losing its place
just a thread
a tapestry started
here
with this thread
just a thread
at its end
its fraying
end

slopes
the slipping
it is maddeningly slow
you donʻt really notice
it is small shifts and adjustments
as dirt and pebbles dribble
shitlike
beneath you,
rolling out of sight
soundless to the abyss below
no
donʻt look up
a glance reveals
the terror

iterations
again
again, it creeps
slow darkness smothers
gasps for light
i would die
for the sweet breath of a crescent
moon
and the evening star

blüt
suns set
dripping
Munch-esque
iron-scented bloodstains across the sky;
these hands are useless:
i cannot escape
myself

it tears the paper
nib.
a forgotten scratch.
hurried scrawls
patient lines
upon my heart
the blots of time
fading
fading

augury
before the cauldron,
words that burst,
tantalizing, tormenting,
noisome,
their fumes rising
past my tired gaze
peering to see
through the impenetrable
what lies beneath
hidden, unknown,
unremembered,
unnamed,
unspoken,
stirred by the cursed day,
stirred by the silence of night 
in which my heart rests?

expecting something different
the ribbon is exhausted
i have flipped it
rewound it
there is
nothing left to give
and yet,
indelibly
my fingertips are stained
in the fading autumn dusk
the sheets of my heart lay about
crumpled

once
i had words

onslaught
it is the screaming in my gut
or is it my head
the uncontrollable
indescribable fear
of shattering from within
shards exploding 
shredding me shredding you,
though i try not to.
while you try to carry on,
and share
the mundanes, the not-so-mundanes
the must-doʻs and donʻt doʻs of daily
slogging through life
that i just cannot take in, 
because the fractures are barely holding
and any moment
the thin strands of glass
that hold this fragile vessel
will crumble,
granules flying before the
burden
that weighs 
water, 
or lead,
or the guilt
or the shame
that the fractures are barely holding
and any moment
the thin strands of of glass
that hold this fragile vessel
will crumble

temptations
this heart yearns to be free
imprisoned,
inescably chained
a key
perhaps
to freedom
deadly beautiful

vision
maybe
just maybe
i donʻt have to be sane
(or maybe i donʻt know what sane is)
maybe
it is the razorʻs edge
that is my path
maybe
iʻll never know sane
but
the wonders,
oh
the wonders
here
where i tremble
sweaty-palmed
as the winds
pierce my gut
pushing
pulling
high above
the devouring rocks
below

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