Memento
The hermit wears the pilgrim's shell,
And naked searches for a home.
There is a broken mirror leaking light,
There is a vessel lined with thorns.
There is a cage to hold a savage heart,
Whose contra-rhythm beats against the bars.
A body built of stolen things -
Of broken glass and razor wire.
Opal eyes reflecting borrowed spite,
A single spark to fight against the gods.
There is a thread unspooling
To defy the loom;
You never knew me, I never knew.
Here is a book written in our blood,
Une litanie de temps perdu.
Moments coalescing into form,
Where words perform the work of worms.
“Decay exists as an extant form of life”