THIS IS A SONNET ABOUT LOOMING EXECUTIONS AND THIS VACUUM OF DEATH WHICH WE CALL LIFE 10.7.17

10.7.17

 

I am falling apart.
ugliness captured in reflective glass,
a fractured hand from punching walls,
expressions dealt upon the world from this sliced up heart
and this soul molested and harassed
awaiting like a prisoner in penitent chains the final fall
to dawn upon his head, the looming execution
unendurably prolonged by a shortage of nooses.
Innocence,

I plead it to the end
upon my knees in this vacuum of death
which we call life. But be honest,
my incompetence has paid dividends
to your self worth, a net gain we can assess
in the next life where contrition is both currency and profit.

 

 

 

 


Written at 1:41 in the afternoon, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA. This is my first sonnett. 

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