Little Black Boxes Iii

I have collected strange things… In this obscure life… I have placed them in Little Black Onyx Boxes old and ornate covered inlaid with exotic stones, metals forged unknown These objects are memories from an odd land gathered during the wages of a ruined life… Throughs of inner realms at night I have taken each one out to study to ponder to obsess and to plunder! Each a strange thought of design! Each a past regret or greatest fear! Of my dreams never dreamt never felt in this fleeting space are made real. Objects of desire or dismissed images, imagery that sits on dusty shelves of ornate ornaments… Hide n obscure abstract views, a sacrament a belief in profane dichotomy blurred burning black imagery… Photos strobe of a vast city… In overdrive a fine morticians twine used to sew my dead eyes shut A ring, symbolic of love a union, broken misplaced trust all these odd ornate objects are needed in my oblique memory! In a shadowbox, shells from smoking guns, letters of deceit bloodstains on fine pure white volumes vile, full of my own inner pain pour PURE rain… Burnt things left under the harsh stars I pick each up dust them off Layered in a vermilion of rust I placed them in rows of memories! I feel the gathering of crows a murder in memory watching as a witness Of strange thoughts as these things gather in my night! Little onyx black boxes all inlaid with toxic metals cold stones from Oddlands of the unknown. Each image is a bitter memory left unshorn… … each stored in little black boxes…