Tag Archives: self

Crepuscular

Good afternoon, everyone. Have you ever looked into the twilight? Have you ever seen them? Those crepuscular things… Perhaps they look more sincerely into you. Without further ado:

Silence of the Lived-In Ghost

No.

It is so.

They cannot see.

No, they cannot see.

Those things that find their way

into these eyes of mine.

They do not know.

How those ghosts cry out…

No, they cannot see them.

They cannot hear them.

Their cries,

their screams.

They cannot see those eyes,

the eyes of ghosts

inside their hosts.

I have seen the dark,

how those ghosts traverse it.

Caught between the night and day,

it’s past their time

with nothing to say.

No, they cannot see them.

But these ghosts, these specters,

they haunt my nights

and stalk my days.

Perhaps it is so

that I am among them,

watching and waiting

for my time again.

Caught between the night and day

in that little place

with nothing to say.

The Banks of The River Lethe

Good afternoon, everyone. You have died. You stand here, like those heroes of old, on the banks of that sacred river Lethe. Your ascent to the heavenly realms of Paradiso now secured, you step carefully into the dark and starkly opaque water. Your sins, desires and memories washed away in sacred bliss. As a child again, you are innocent, no longer condemned, but redeemed. Welcome to the rest of forever. Without further ado…

Settling Debts

Haunting orbs

drift across the water.

They come towards me,

stealing away my light.

I am fading.

I flash and flicker;

I am the torch over which your fingers

quickly pass.

The specters

take my flame.

They wear it

and make themselves whole.

I am as the hearth

in that certain dearth

that follows November.

Swept away,

is all my heat.

Through the mist

is seen defeat.

I know why they’ve come:

The debt of one infernal sum.

I cannot pay,

I’m ashamed to say.

This will make their day.

To-Do List

Good morning, all. What’s on your to-do list? Groceries, practices, galas, or lunches. Think of all the decisions you might make today; is it you that is making them? Can you help yourself? Or does your self help you? Think about this as you read this short piece today. Without further ado…

To Do

If it were agency

through which we divined our decision,

would we have defined this insanity?

Would we have found ourselves,

rife in the ways that we are,

at the impasse of that infernal cycle to which we are bound?

Does the man make a decision?

Or does the decision make the man?

If it’s agency, you are a monster.

If it’s not, you are a monster.

Hardly matters, so it seems.

Make the choice;

let it make you.

There’s hardly anything you can do.