SEEN THROUGH AND THREADBARE
We are tumbled, we are lost.
Dreams scattered, dreams hanging on.
Bleached of radiance, long bitter hours –
The nonsense of encumberance.
Expectation exposed, soured, drained.
Threadbare themes clutching for others,
Drifting away, drifting.
Stale rooms, wan sunlight.
Uplifted, waylaid by thin cliché:
Music somewhere to race through,
To wear as flags of intention.
A matter of opinion, this weighing of souls.
The animal-headed ones cast out
For the favoured, faceless, nameless accountants.
Glory rationalised as aberrant chemical imbalance,
Ninety-nine point nine percent of all known dreams
Killed, deadened, ridiculed.
Distracted, taken for a ride,
Disengaged from small beauty,
Cursing the train of more,
The sleek highway to an echoed here.
Consumed, never consummated.
It will never add up to much.
Friends, one by one,
Acquiescing to anonymous silence.
Silent dawns without laughter,
Void cracking through the eggshell light.
A pillow of dissapointment
Stifling a few last breaths.
The parasite gone one step too far,
One step far too far.
Abducted, returned, discarded,
Tested, rejected.
Numbed, awaiting the quenchless wrath
Of the righteous.
—
( a small cloud of melancholy drifting by,
A life returned unopened)
simonhlilly 