Chants for the Disenchanted
Fiction, Non-fiction, Poetry, Prose. Balm or Affliction. Anything goes.
Chant of Trangression.
Writhing inside my own torment,
Of my own making.
Degenerative tissues inside my psyche
Take hold of me.
Sulfurous walls of hope and calm
Reveal enough illiteracy and absurdity in my eyes.
Trangressing in the circle,
Burning from one end to the other.
Where have I been all this time?
What is there left but.... this.
The hourglass is broken,
Thrown into the dark,
Forcefully beaten into dust.
Ending: July 30th... on a warm summer day.
© Marcel Nault Jr, 2022