Adrift in Time
Splintered thoughts cannot express
the violence that powers these wounded hands.
As each twisted line slips away,
I am one awkward step closer to my fate.
Inside the wisdom of a tainted grape
I find no delusions, no distractions
from my malevolent realities. Instead
the pain ferments inside: a bitter crop.
Rage soothes me but does not satisfy
the lurid desires of a shaded heart;
as each blackened grain of time falls
that radiant desolation spreads further inward.
Listless nights drown me with a vast silence
and faded splendor of worlds unobtainable.
Here I live beneath a placid surface;
a cold and wavy face adrift in time.