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An American Portrait

Fixed melancholy, how you find me!

Crawled down out of the mystical fog

The burial holds the weight of the world against me

Awake in Death & devoid of all human form

 

A crypt that no longer holds me quivers

My hand erupts through the coffin lid

And as the death flies spew about

I recall the freedom from absolute will

Filthy insects creep even where the darkness will not

 

A world that now rests dormant as She cries

Arrival of dusk, encountered again

One that used to be full of hope

& I bend in the midnight gale

Contouring flesh & cringing bones

A werewolf transforming in the light of the iron moon

 

Now the field of dormant dusk rots

Full of dew & fresh moonlight

A snare of perfect petals cleave to me

Perfectly haunting thorns await

Blackened roses burn at the stake

 

Hear the hum of the drones

Theyve come to set us free

(Dark carnival laughter ensues)

Trapped imprisonment, my soul is my own captor, trading of particulate flesh

The sheets of mist separate me from you

Buried deep in the forgotten, broad paintstrokes of an American Portrait

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Written by
blackcatpoetry
41 / M / Jersey Shore, NJ
Published
Feb 19
Lines·Words
26·192
Notes

blackcatpoetry 2026

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