In Grateful Disgrace

Creative destructions

of boundless ruptures.

Shattered windows, severed 

memories. Divinity and 

sweet resolution with 

awful repercussion.

Banishment from reason,

we push our wrists into 

grafted oblivions.

Are we grateful?

Caressed moonlight

bring blackened soul light. 

Abscond

Words of defiance fall

upon deaf ears, keen

to find sunlight in dark corners.

What bright lights we hold

over our shoulders, absconded.

In his silences you solicit

words that should not repeat to 

mourners.

We are all but blank canvases 

tainted by the shadows that dance

across broken easels and

misguided grooves, buried into

unstoppable routine.