Blots

|Tenses|

I am a parasite of yesterday.
A leech removing reminiscence
rotten and stale;

A bastard echo off an ephemerally visible mirage,
Ferally entangled in a bygone
masquerade.

~▪~

A reluctant relic of the malignant malice
That the redundant, reddened remnant rue
Of the poignant past

Bled into

today.

~▪~

A respiring, despairing decay.
An afterglow
Of the staccato, red-shifting Sun,
Well overrun

Beyond the day.

~▪~

A fraction of attraction fuels my morbid disconnection,
Pulling me; a trepid tow-truck, into realms past termination,

A sensation clams my heart in desperation, and I tumble
As a hairpin, in a spiral with a viral culmination.

~▪~

This conundrum forms my lullaby.
A choice betwixt the stale and parted mist-

And the cyst I'm always eaten by.

~▪~

Whether to fill my lungs with days to come,
Or choose to never let the past breath out.

To be towards the yester, ever bound
Or carry on, in cue of everyone.

~▪~

Why does moment after moment exercise its own government
When the medium of experience has but overstayed its presence?

Why do memories mahogany, possess a subtle harmony
That darkens me, that serves as muse to please the weeping bard in me?

~▪~

Should I deny the saccharine that memory so gladly brings?
Or let my heart orgasm in the chasm left by olden things?

Should I be unabashed with bathing in the nettle rash of yore;
Or should I nurse the gash away, and focus on the evermore?

~▪~

The present is a present that I cannot wait to bury;
The past is a tempting breakfast, a luring adversary;

The future is a suture of incalculable nature;
And the fulcrum of this humdrum, my confounded organism;

Entrapped within a prism of obscure, distorted lenses-
Beholds, in panic manifold, the brawl between the tenses.

~•■•~

A/N- Present, Past or Future? I'm always drawn to the past. There's something irresistible about the irreversible.