Conrad’s Conundrum

i.
I walked into a room of nigger light
In pursuance of the criminal past
Of such phantoms as myself
Who hates myself for being unseen—

Blind as totalitarianism in cursed handcuffs.

ii.
Resolve my horror, the horror, by introducing the sun:
My fragmentary soul—light is white and might is not right.
The left handed path, brittle and fearsome in rebellion.
The right handed path, tough as iron in the forge. Unwavering!

iii.
I shrivel and die, cannibal eyes. What is unheard?
The plaints of purity and protest: such protean pleas.

Dialectical Tears

Monsters hide in the abyss when you cry loudest.
But your cry is ancient and through shuttles of deepened thread
We invent looms of untruthed completeness.
When you speak through your fears
The soul embarks on a baptismal vision.

One plus one is two when two is not unarraigned by invention.
Innovate your placated dawn.
When those unkind temptations market the disturbances
Of your wrath, the weak perilous in their fright scurry to the edge.

How Do You Know the Standing?

Lazy eyes watchful and content,
Banished by Roman place to the painting of fingers.
I am not noir nor am I ignored.
Black and white films historicize the right of gesture.

Metacognition

Therapy like a parrot in chime
Teaches the stupidity of repetition:
I ask what I always ask in the ways of time.
Wash my dirty hands of this gimp
And I will wait for sorrow’s tools to withdraw
The crucifixion of natural splendor.

Failure to Comply

O angst, your dreams are too narrow!
The ideals of shit and scurvy
Loom the ship to its immortality.

I address the Captain by his first name.