Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Bluest Despair


Idiolects, intellects, and derelicts
huddle behind the loneliness
in the grayest area between joy
and an epithet; one's pique
becomes an anchor chained in
solitude with an incurable 
melancholy;
disfiguring reason blots out
the yuletide and adding snow and
rain only compounds the 
vapid emptiness; the misanthropic
cheerless greetings symbolize 
the cruelty of Christmas whereas
many see cordial kneadings and 
intermingle revelations, for thee
old and forgotten are soon rotten
in memory, though the ones who
brought unforgiving grievance 
stay affixed to recollection like
thousands of dangling icicles. 

- John Hardesty 

No comments:

Post a Comment

Tinkering With Time

  Waiting for death at the graveyard, traipsing one of my abstruse moods. I noticed a grayish-hued Cardinal was stalking me, going from one ...