Has become a prison,
But then again
I never wanted to be free.
Ten not nine or eleven
But always ten.
We are singular in our plurality
Locked together double-backed
Casting the old triple hex,
Vexing the world while sexing
The quartet of primordial elements
Can you see the pattern
In all these fragments?
The cracked actor drops the mask
And stares into the shattered mirror,
But reflected back in the jagged shards
Are the faces seen during masquerade,
Not anybody’s idea of tragedy.
Any order imposed is as arbitrary
And as random as chaos.
What direction to take?
Make an invocation to the cardinal points,
Look for a sign or an augury
In this emptiness tending
Towards the never-ceasing absolute.
Taken as a whole, maybe
It contains the summation of a sum.
Past the fabled event horizon:
All is only horror here, a hybrid
Of repetitions and repressions
Under the dominion of a Goddess
The metal arachnid XCES who demands homage.
Where do you fit in?
Circle, square, pentagram or rhombus?
Give me succour and some liquor
Then lacquer this reality, varnish
The truth that the party is over,
Drew the curtains, hide from the day
Keep alive the illusions of night and love.