Will not be
Sadness for no reason
Cutting from the cloth
Of an old world’s dysfunction
Sewing up a new dress
And wearing it for posterity.
The world of ugly things
Came knocking at my door.
Not knowing it was ugly things,
I let that world in,
And it unleashed,
With dormant magma’s
Pent up explosion,
A fury.
Now it won’t go away
Without a fight
Holding on to lovely things
I do my best to seal up my house;
In this house of me
I hold on to lovely things.
Desperately I grasp at
Grand Substance;
Paying attention to the laquer
On other women’s nails,
It’s this that ugly things miss.
Insects crawl at my perimeter
But they are mere pests:
Where in my house of me
In the land of love
In the journey of peace
Can the attack be sustained?
How terrible,
To be a bearer of ugly things
A wasp
A roach!
By the light of the moon
I rest with work done;
The dress of antiquity in tatters:
No.
You cannot encroach,
My cells galvanized with
Icy moonlight behind
Lids which sheath
These dual witnesses
To your crimes.
Kyrie eleison!
A requiem
for a worm.
