Our hearts are bent

Like pennies on a track

An effigy to pain,

Irrelevant as candlesticks

Behind yellow tape,

We who are in

A constant state of extremity

Cannot breathe when idle


My hands are the Devil’s soldiers

They run on enigma and ash

Between the two of us

I’d rather change

The distance of necessity

Being itself a form of resurgence

I am the Judas to your martyrdom

The spreader of chaos and suspense


My loathsome angels

Hasten toward oblivion

You in powder blue turn aside

Your sententious facades

Embrace the scythe-eyed construct

The copper fruit of the conversant


No one speaks

With their eyes anymore

It’s all wilted daises

And chemical interventions

What’s the use of flesh

In this synthetic domain?


The platform is scarred

And if you knew me

You’d recognize the beast

Within these variegated lines

Pretty doesn’t persist

In the eyes of a stranger

Give your heart only

To those willing

To reveal their defects


Full of anxiety, my mind is all over the place hence this strange little poem. The candlestick bit refers to Clue because it was a common murder weapon. I was totally obsessed with Clue when I was a child/teen.