In Formaldehyde Jars

in placid plastic preserve - stolen inspiration swirling around two whirling, winged and curling cavernicolous creatures. do they speak, each to the other? do they not know of their death? they show nothing of knowing, drifting, feebly floundering in the slightly flowing frosted glass, their hideous delusional dance drives me mad! first his, then her’s, they had cut their own. from the shelf I smashed them down, & there they sit, tormenting me in their time detested tryst! still they meet, dirt specked from the floor, hideous is the sound, their hearts still beating, yet for all of my groped gasping, mine shall be heard no more.