Eric Lacombe
I drank the silence
As carbon monoxide
Killing myself as surely
As if I’d brandished
A weapon.
Denial is not
A measure of peace
But the harbinger
Of an interminable war
My heart’s muffled chorus
Is as distant from me now
As a coyote’s domain is
From the apogee
Of its congenital muse
I cannot not reach her
Even in exploitation
For I have composed
Of her a goddess and forgotten
That she measures blood
Only in its propensity
To exacerbate pain
She, like her lunar sister
Is composed of regolith
(The residue of tears
Extinguished without profit)
She hangs sullen in my chest
Like a reading light
Casting discarnate tumors
Over every sliver
Of uncultivated flesh
A slave to munitions
And these words
No matter how
Beautiful or beastly
Will never express me
In my entirety
So I pick up the pen
And I make the first incision
Lifting mortality from my
Long-standing bones
Even if it takes a lifetime
I’ll free myself
These necrotizing customs
*
Despite being sick I thought I’d attempt a little something
mindlovemisery 