Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Ghosts


by Kendalle Fiasco, 2007

'Ere Dawn broke, and rosy finger'd
Stroked the sculpture of his face,
Lost was I in thoughts that linger
In this dark and dismal space.

Time hath stained me with compassion
Yet I hardly can adore
How in a Plutonian fashion
Enter lost loves from before.

Enter Mem'ry, enter fellows,
O ye violents, O ye liars
Midst the broken-bon├Ęd bellows
Of my self-worth on the pyre!

Speak of nights I still abhor
Or raise your sickly face to flame
That age-old wounds still scream in horror
At the mention of thy name!

Send me swimming in confusion
With your practiced honeyed-speech
Linking horror to illusion
That my youth you still can leech!

Lie to me now, screaming specters
That you earn your hateful keep!
Tears to alm you dream-infectors!
I cannot sleep! I cannot sleep!

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