A paper cut

A ****** machete

Became a thorn on the focus

Became the pause on the focus

A wail of the wee ones

A whirl on the freeways

Became a soft smothering

Became a daft splattering.

Shadows settle where warmth once stood

On windowsills

Beneath quilted covers

Emancipated, gaunt figures now linger there :

Reeking of desperation, to make sense of the cold.

We'll hang up our cowls & capes

In the thick of the collapsed ruins

Cranking one last tune on expired phonographs

Groaning as osteofluorosis plays his merry tune again

Still, gazing with the vast emptiness of long-lost eyes,

As a long lost chord haunts these halls again, we mutter :

"I can hear it now, like I heard it then."

A numb sense of right & wrong

The aftermath of events went nuclear


Making an esoteric pact all alone by a round table

Who what when why - identity crisis of belief

Even with the chill of culmination


I recall the actual events of long ago, like it was yesterday.

the sensations of formerly heralded emotions

begin as pins and ******

ode to them as tears appear on skin taut as paper

undertow of familiar ashes beneath papyrus heart, rosetta mind

though that fragile bough breaks, hurtling us to our end.

While I eventually await the end - all siren call

Of the heat death of our universe

Killing time with the minutiae of hourglasses

Enroaching sub-zero temperatures ensure I will never achieve that closure.

The absence of heat, rather than being in a true inverse of statement, i.e : It is warm - it's hot, instead, i. e : It's cold - there is no warmth, there is absence of heart. This brings to mind peculiar similarities with emotional states, where even sorrow brings a flushed face and tears streaming through eyes.


However, the absence of heat, in the emotional spectrum, is indeed a disastrous precedent. It brings to mind detachment, depression, and a distinct emotion of loss.