Thursday, January 12, 2012

epilogue (from "Xenomorphine")

can it be 
the fall
is what we required
all along
blackened bloodied
bruised are we,
taught through
toughened muscle
and pectoral strain to
relay all traces
of entropy
and atrophy
and the fast fade
of we--
built to battle
but not to win
our loss true
our fail destined,
blurred and blinded
gypsies in the fog,
we, the builders of this
chiseled epilogue
can it be
the pain
is what we predicted
all wrong
cracked fragments
unfit are we,
taut through
difficult struggle
and dire strain to
feign all traces
of empathy
and charity
and the true shade
of we—
built to bleed
but not to clot
our hope spilling
our path plot
crossed and bitter
shadows in the fog,
we, the guides of this
severe epilogue
can it be
the end
is what we admired
all along
divisive villains
disavowed are we,
tract through
mortal troubles
and terrible vices to
hide all traces
of humility
and unity
and the tangled threads
of we---
built to stand
but not to last
our fate decided
our mold cast,
lost and isolated
walkers in the fog,
we, the scribers of this
desolate epilogue

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