dedicated to the mirror of the shadow of my former self.
8:25 A.M.
step in late.
the eyes,
the eyes,
exceptional in eye shadow
find mine,
or perhaps i was looking for them,
and i realize
how distracted i’ve been
by my new summer coat,
but now
the eyes are relentless,
the eyes do not blink.
the eyes are omniscient,
the eyes will not sleep.
now that i’m
face to face with fate,
a captive to the eyes
that supposedly convinced me
that all
faith
is
blind,
one half second suffices
to make hell
now something to be strived for,
and heaven twice the myth.
and near those eyes,
the face,
the face that infected a thousand consciences
stands by, silently
begging for a command,
its latest fix up on its favorite neurochemicals;
the face,
the face that screams satisfy
for the member that skull-****** a million subconscious desires!
or,
perhaps,
he’s a mirror.
9:05 A.M.
and i, the mind,
the only man wearing a collared shirt
in this barren company,
plead for recognition;
to make an impression;
to grab the attention,
scribbling in slang
for hate
or,
perhaps,
triumph!
the eyes
beam blistering illegitimacy
into the mind,
unawares and
unintentional.
i make the silent error.
still, the face
chokes out a weak
“hey,”
where there was once cold callous.
definitely a mirror:
opportune moment,
easy catch
while the eyes still wonder:
“standards?!
what the *hell are those?”
of all faiths, his
is
blindest.
12:00 P.M.
away,
away,
away, away,
unto the scarlet heat of day,
with winter boots on sunbaked clay,
away,
away,
away, away,
away, away, away
from malady of present way:
the lonely path, too late to pray,
“erode your blessing’s granite sway
away!”
away,
away, away.
but affectation stays not long
as the face has just found out,
contorted, cried, and bellowed shouts
and in the mind’s eye, belted songs.
first contact in eighteen months;
he says:
“it’s you, weakling, you
first source of all my pain!
worthless, worthless,
perverted, scheming,
evil source that
ruined my life!”
definitely a triumph.
“or
perhaps
enhanced it,”
say i.
“herman,
i observe
you’re not so weak
as once i thought,
and half as meek
as last time i heard you speak.
away.”
away,
away, away
unto much cooler, peaceful days.
for now, i’ll put my summer coat
away.
1:57 P.M.
step in late.
no eyes,
no eyes
filled with hate.
no fears,
no fears,
no heavy weight.
no tears,
no tears,
for the day grows late.
today i committed sacrilege:
i tried to sanctify this date.
today i blasphemed against the
holy human mind.
i eschewed the natural anesthetic of time,
and repented of a baseless crime.
the eyes,
the eyes are in my sight,
yet out of mind,
and cannot last for long,
for the many hands,
the hands that rip and tear asunder
will render limb from limb
so desperately trying to
save her from
each other!
Copyright August 2011 by Victor Thorn.
