I.
"This Way to Oblivion"
is crucified to a tree.
An uncertain arrow aims
down a forgotten road
congealed with dust;
the day, poisoned with twilight,
has already decayed.
Time remains an open grave,
its headstone lost amidst
epiphanies and revelations,
prophets and poets,
silent elegies and bitter hopes.
II.
For years now I’ve strayed this path,
and Wisdom scatters into the trees;
some Truth always slipping from my grasp.
Slipping? You’ve never bothered
to close your fingers.
It’s difficult to hold something
that’s never become incarnate.
Your existence, you mean.
Your archaic voice has deserted
what you still call a body.
I’ve only done it for you, you see...
For me? Seven years, my darling.
Seven years I’ve been clawing
at this unforgiving coffin.
Seven years? How many
anniversaries have abandoned
our calendar? How many
days have thawed away
under the absence of
your heat? How many
minutes have ticked unnoticed,
when, without you, Time
has morphed into anarchism?
Time remains an open grave—
Time is but an open window!
And I will crawl through
the jagged shards of glass
still left on the sill, if
they will lead me to you.
I’ve never left you...
you are seeking someone
who has long ascended
into the fathomless depths
of tonight’s moonless sky.
I have beseeched that sky...
Its austere stars deceive me
with their perjury.
Why do you insist?
Six feet and an infinity
keep me from holding you.
I am afraid of forgetting
the exact tenure of your voice,
or the aurora in your eyes...
This is why I insist,
this madness I’ve endured...
Anyone who chooses to be mad
can also choose to be sane.
I would choose insanity over
losing the sensation of your
skin against mine—
insanity over the thought
that in another life,
in another beginning,
you wouldn’t have taken me
on that moonlit walk.
Do you see, my darling...
I have never left you.
It is you who have departed...
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Submission Name: This Way to Oblivion
