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 Jul 2020
Batchelor
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.
I went nowhere, and found myself everywhere.

Somewhere, is always where I've been.

4th of March, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
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.
of blizzards and infernos.

undertake this love
undertake this transformation
a cruel transfiguration

into the king in black

28th of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
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.
Frozen, in an inversion.

28th of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
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.
Cracks and fissures.

26th of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
Gaunt, slipping through time, evading notice.

Buried alive, a small comfort, exaltation of terra firma.

Gauntlets equipped, not unlike shackles, once more into the fray.

Unearthed, foul arcana preserving an empty husk, begging for rest in moans.
What's in my head?

23rd of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
Lay me beside you

Lay me to rest


I dare not meet your eyes

Not even in my dreams


Forever tending to the flames between us

Forever shivering in the void you left.
I won't meet your eyes, the same way I used to, again.

23rd of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
In the ruins of previous lives, ghosts meandered. (soft cheer, and laughter.)

With a skylight turned inside out, cracks, fenestrating form. (soft sobbing, and fear.)

On the desk lay stained glass, and the ashes of yesterday. (softer times, and love.)


Just in time, for the air sirens.

Illustrations on the glass, now of resignation.

Musty tomes fluttered, and in the unnatural torrent of gales,

Angels of metal sent love letters, to wash it all away with indifferent flames.
War.

What is it good for?

Absolutely nothing.

23rd of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
How are you?

I end up funneling warmth to that part of me.


How have you been?

A simple query, to see if you're still there.


I've missed you.

Bitter frost cracks open with the uninvited warmth.
Chained, absolute.

Frozen, sub-zero.

21st of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
There is magic where we once held memorable moments

Your glances, there was perfect chemistry in them, enough to quell the melatonin within.

I'll wrangle my ghosts, sipping from a goblet of ashen intent, dusty wills.


Where's the haunting?
Haunt-Disappear-Intent

20th of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
I caught you lying

I caught you picking your teeth off the floor

Not so pretty now are you?


Now your dead soul calls out again to me.
"That keep calling me
They keep calling me
Keep on calling me
They keep calling me"

20th of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
Your portrait decays the longer I observe it.

I don't think you deserve the vibrant colours you've been etched by.


Perplexed, perhaps these are my reservations speaking.
I'd pay to see you frown.

20th of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
Awake, awaiting for your presence to bring a warm pulse shimmering in meaningful gazes.
"It's like you're my mirror. My mirror's staring back at me."

20th of February, 2018.
 Jun 2020
Batchelor
It has been a long time since the fires flitted across my mind.

Has passion simmered down, or am I just ashes, waiting to be reborn?
Or the Long Dark, once more?

20tth of February, 2018.
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