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Comeuppance for Avarice
So very, very tired
these powdered bones dissolving in
a whirlwind of metal smells
and crimson dreams
that I refuse to take part in
for I know if I close
these midnight eyes, I'll never
relish the suns glory ever again.
So I burn the candle
that perfumes the air with a haze
of memories better left alone
yet are always relived when
Mozarts best floats about this
prison of thoughts whose keys
are made of shattered quartz
masquerading as something worthwhile
that takes far too long to form.
So I'll forsake another one of
my children to bolster the self-esteem
that has fled to balimier climes
a long time ago, leaving a hastily
scribbled note proclaiming its
love for my nonexistent strength
will never falter.
Its not nonsense, motherfuckers.
