Monday, July 21, 2014

Life as a Vent Crab

Sometimes I feel I have spent the preponderance of this life
Being ignored in numb hopes
Attempting correspondence
With that glass half empty / full

Debating the relevance of internal perspective
Feeling like rotten carcass road kill thumped
This dynamic of emotional recollection is a perdition of cognizance
Wishing to not remember the hue of emotion

Music, locations, words are elements all
Into the intransigent anchors of fossil fuels
Seeing extinction rise from the taint
Into lungs incapable of relating on the surface

Because their substance fumes from the deep
Nether caverns of busted pipes and rotten plants
Evans, Jack, Bent Trail, Wilson, Roland, Long Pine into Keith
With Douglas’ Chateau d’if in between 

Where from here with these feckless Easter baskets and saccharin stockings?
Vomit, knowing all the choices that ever mattered were not in my volition
Every one away from me into those silent lakes
Sterile surface reflecting placid waves over the trenches

Down, down to the vent-crabs suckling the methane and geothermal heat

Just say goodbye  

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