Cutter

Arbitrary landscapes in a flutter ’round the cellar
Are they moving interstellar
Being fortune and the teller
Not the sold and not the seller of the all consuming clutter

Piling in monuments of other minor moments
Where we measure in components
Being growth and how we’ve grown it
Into fountains full of foment fit to fade like just another

Trivial pursuit that we discover, like an idol,
Of a moon, and we the tidal
Wave we soon would see a bridle
Like a sun now suicidal with a mask of cloudy cover

Statuary still and here we shudder all the while
Putting factures into tile
Like a pre-existing style
Of the sad and how we smile when we see that we’re the cut and we’re the cutter

Obsolescent

All that I remember is the fuse before it lit
The vivid coloration
With a sound like an ovation
And a silhouette of circles at the bottom of a pit
…swallowing the shards of its creation

Everything before is just a blur and little more
A slow reverberation
Or a glimpse of a location
And a hollowing sensation slipping slowly through my core
…vertigo from inverse elevation

What I seem to see in all the moments that remain
Are figures, iridescent
Where the sun is now a crescent
Hiding low behind a moon that only ever learned to wane
…living in a cycle acquiescent

All I see before me is a fuse wearing a spark
In painted rooms, fluorescent
With the sound of flies, incessant
And the words are made of echoes that require no remark
…at how they used to carry such a weight, however stark,
Before they slipped away in circles at the bottom of a pit, now obsolescent

Bleed

She left me
So I left me here with wrist set like a sieve
She left me
So I guess we only have this to believe
She’s gone
And maybe dawn is just a joke for which I grieve
She left
And so I left and now the only thing that’s left to do is bleed…