melancholy on the wall
cast by the muted shadows
your soul is shapeless
recalling exestence
hungry for defeat
in the candlelight luster of burnt metaphors
vision is reinvented, a bleeding butterfly
flutters and is decanted in the corners
the moan of a thousand violins gauzes the air
you listen yet you fail.
conjuring the inimagined
seeking to hear the voices of poe, homer and joaquin
deafening prose and history, leaving marks
as that of falling rain, becomes legible
and surrenders; blood or sweat?
you ask for forgiveness from meaning
from words in alphabetical symmetry
in the silence of your thoughts
deep within the flooded jungles
you stare past beyond the transparent
and yes you remember
you remember all of this
at the wake of your mortality
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