The inheritance of loss

As my prayers die
my hope diminishes
and my soul gets violated
with my faith abused

the child in me cries

The revolting wind carries it
far across the death camps
where sodomized purity rots
to soot black putrefaction

I don't protest
it's my progress

I will purge their collective lust
and float into the jetsam of mistrust
The secrets spill out into the open
the saline tragedy seeps in, burning
The holes in my soul welcome the entry
of the probosces and placid eyes

It's a nightmare with reruns
every season where the dimensions exist
as unvarying constants-
f o r e v er

I am still the bud-
wilted and wounded

a small river of crimson floats down
only to coagulate and scale-
disconnected

the eyes bulge and storms strike
cinematic clairvoyance
yet crumpled, crude

The cries build up
a cliff inside
the crescendo of whimpers
a broken stairway

mutterings and
flutterings and
trapped feelings

As the dragonfly reaches across
and the lizard lurches
the wailing is silenced as

there is still time

The freed fever returns
to the ravaged sea
nailed malaise makes an
abberation

noone appreciates and
the bud closes in

The sun and
the moon and
the breeze and
the sea
with the majestic allure
trapped out shut

the nails dig and
the flesh puckers
and rivers flow

Only the life force watches
the proceedings from above

Ceasefire. Last hour.