CANTOS V
But could Chad pull off this maneuver
even with his rough allure?
Brush all that’s just, all that he knew,
To make a Devil’s rendezvous?
To end a person’s life just so
he may end his own. What thought-maestro
can dream so dark and sick and dour,
such details of a girl deflower’d?
An innocence dies on its own.
An apple-cheeked lass becomes a crone.
Adapt to cheat, less die alone?
A golem’s life is with no home.
Some martyr shed their robes bled red,
While others stained bright white, instead.
To live and live and never die
until the conscious’ fully pried.
Until one’s pride is ground as mill
can Chad release and soak distil.
“Suburban whiners, I’ve cast chagrin,
in truth, that’s what I’ve always been.
I’ve ripped my life so far ajar;
I’m just the miniscule YOU ARE!
To think the things that one can do
when one has less than naught to lose.
Six months were soon. He packed and fled.
There comes a place where maps give up
directing. Steps are gambits, top
to bottom, trees trim the stars.
You simply don’t know where you are.
The winds start here on their patrol,
First when they’re fresh and fiercely cold.
Relentless bruises I call time
have buffeted his skin to lime.
His face uncracked and ghostly smooth
expressed not well his soul unsoothed.
“I think about how I am cursed
A solemn man once said, ‘The Earth
Endures forever.’ I’m not alone.”
So much of nature, in fact, is gross.
The greatest clasp of life is close
Between how much we loath our days
and still we dread our death’s decay.
from ash to ash and dust to dust,
a tiny tab of earthen crust.
“Respect the magic, alive and queer,
but show the world, it’ll disappear.”
CANTOS VI
The moral of the story is…
Wait, you expect for me to give
an explanation for this tale?
Forget it, this ain’t Aesop’s fables.
Now just as I sweat to compose,
you should be reading awfully close
to get the most straight from the text.
As author, I can demand respect!
You chose to cross the Rubicon
not knowing what this tale would spawn.
but there’s a little epilogue
to clear what had been cast in fog:
Magic is a funny thing.
Who knows what fortunes it can bring?
Now Chad’s confined in his decay,
but he may live to love some day.
The stuff that spans across your skin
once made a star shine, boil and brim.
This is the way a life begins,
with ashes’ dust tossed in the wind.
And thus, it all will start again.
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