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Melancholy Atomic 1945 , Salvador Dali
The sky is a Luciferian estuary
rolling and roaring in crimson flames,
a twisted design of detonated debris,
like splitting sighs
from internal implosions,
raining fragments of the past:
matchbox memories
piercing through suffocating silence
as time tortures the mind
with flashbacks of floating fragility…
O invisible moonlight,
pour me a purple potion
to erase the pain behind
perplexed pupils.
I no longer desire to be
cast in the clamorous clusters,
convicted as the captive ~
a ghost of games
playing on the bones of brokenness,
this cave of shame,
this cell of hellfire,
this emotional shrapnel,
reflecting self-loathing nightmares.
Perhaps I crowned myself
the commander,
leading the devil’s disciples
into a war assembled from fear…
And this heart ~ a metallic maelstrom
mourning in the turmoil of melancholy ~
breaks from the inability
to step beyond wrathful walls
to a landscape of holiness,
to seek the footsteps of pilgrimage.
For I am caught in
the whirling whispers of
spectral regrets,
replicating rectangular ruins,
electrifying the empyrean
with greyed grief
and yellowed yearning.
Pondering ~ am I the blasphemer
in the cross-eyed faces of monsters?
Am I the breath
that trembled ~ disrupting the peace?
Am I the empty spaces
filling the crystalline cracks
between haunting hours,
while darkness devours
treacherous tales
climbing from the
archives of devious agony…
But can love gift this skeletal sorrow
a twilight-kissed cloak of hope?
Will heaven be a witness
to these bleeding carvings
within the tall pillars
of my splintered spirit,
while the dying lamp of life
slowly fades and waves farewell
in faint colors ~ depicting misery
like demons decaying,
shaping a sadistic sanctuary
of malignant madness~
a familiar insanity inked
as a heinous home…
Copyright ©
Ink Empress
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