by Robert M. Mendonsa
This incessant dark instills
A rage beyond capacity.
Trapped, I beckon the gloom
In a longing, wrathful pondering.
A vermilion mist, its droplets sting
Like the burn of a viper’s kiss,
Pours from whence it came
Beyond the brimstone bars
Of this intolerable alteration.
Vaporous fiends, they drag
Talons clawed into my cogitation,
Their eyes lost in opalescent leers
While I’m pulled from the ridge
Wondering why such beasts
Wear the skin of my face.
Into the pit I have fallen,
Isolated and muse-less,
Suffered by the collapse
Of these inescapable expressions,
Aching—waiting—for an End.
