Chain morälity
A constellation of shards haunts the contrails of our languid dusk,
recapturing a folie à deux rearview mirror funhouse
deemed too steep to amount enough hope to overshadow the wavelengths of our dead.
Overran by trembles of the self-same blaring leftovers of what i held true,
again i spawn his muffled bellows,
contrived to forestall my footing from coming unstrung past this threshold,
beckoning an ageless reemergence
into dispossession.
A twofold sense of betrayal branches over the scar I can’t embalm to stop the story from fracturing at the crossing.
Overture arrives already averted;
detracted
amidst the cogs of a torched wheel’s importunate détournements.
Every signal recoiling
like a stamp-collector’s postcard
from Pandora’s letterbox.
