Monday, 15 July 2013

If I Knew: A Poem

Deceptive truths, those
Which rain on us,
Purging and befouling, causing
Retreats into the alcoves
Of consciousness,

Where nothing
But ghostly caches drown
A spark. A myriad of
Familiar faces with piercing
Stares double my rhythm of
Be gone, be gone.

A question hangs in the
Acrid air, by a noose
Made from love. And thus,
I pass 

Into the void