Little Deaths

I ease beneath the shroud of placid waters, slip quietly into the diminishing non. Infinity stutters, coded time interrupts another cycle of my lucid dreaming.

Once familiar voices fade to indistinct-they are now shadow intervals of rolling pitch, a drone of recycled memories juxtaposed with death.

Incandescent passions wield a heavy discourse, burning synapse exposes my weary flesh and an apocalypse of tender mercies.

The burden shifts to unbecoming-acerbic truths unveil bitter secrets, jagged scars- and cruel vicissitudes. Disfigured trust annihilates the future, kindness becomes an impossible stone, misery bleeds-to-fusion the esoteric reach of something incomprehensible-profound.

The clotted blood of enterprise strips faith bare, sorrow offers me its kill- the stillborn abstract of the soul splits the condemned in extremis twisting from its fetid womb-a lifeless dream stolen from a dying child.