If For A Short Moment

The solemn sigh carried on and I wondered why sullen, why surrender, why defeat at the deftness of the day? And the winter of my discontent drove me to a wailing, pushed me to a dissonant drivel, babbling the better parts of my present. How many years had I laid dormant? Ascertaining at my grave, a ghost realized, I was aware of the carcass that carried me. Loathing and languid, my breath carried on like white noise reaching beyond a forlorn frequency. The Remington Rand invoked the gentleman rogue, and the nights swallowed my sunrises with tapping keys becoming the backbeat.

I sat on a black leather couch sending and receiving patterns out past my walls into the seething ether, humming as they went, in unlistenable hertz, keeping the anxiety attack to a mere bark. My hands had called to me in that moment, waving their tentacles pleading for some peace, agonizing for an answer–what are we to you, they said, what violence shall we caress to appease our master? My feet, cold and numb, shifting as distant traffic made its way away from home or back there again.

Schubert’s Le Voyage Magnifique sheared the existential pretensions that should’ve been enough. Piano keys dancing, highs and lows, like rain drops on the heads of dead soldiers somewhere far away across a kingdom by the sea, somewhere far away from me. What would it be like to kill an Arab? I thought reaching for an old cold cup of coffee that had sat there for a few nights.

What right do I have to clamor at the corners of my conscience, I sneered whilst beholding designer shoes atop an ottoman. True, my youth had said farewell some time ago. The weight of disappointment, co-conspirator with gravity as I felt my countenance attempt correction with a silly smile.

 

Hammer on, Franz, you brilliant fuck, and allow me to fester in this ephemeral state of failure. If for a short moment. For tomorrow, I rise again the phoenix.

 

And this way I carry on– I am both, Set and Horus, I die at night, born again the morning.

 

 

A hot shower in this crippling cold night might deem me cogent.

∞