Hubris in Remission

Bent backwards at the prospect of derelict denouement
Face raw bereavement, verbiage splitting lips,
The intellectual evisceration; words ripping cerebral constructs,
Theories guillotined for transgressive simplicity
The remaining grey matter suffocates miserly
At the necessary academia
Lens of enlightenment blighted by egomania---
Fallen garb of the self-immolated.

Fate fares well; consummate king of river-flip-salvation,
Vicissitudes of visceral banality---
Ripe but to rot,
Slowed below the freezing tolerance
A mental inertia, slow sickle harvest
Starving heretical for phantoms
Always phantoms
The naysayers of roguish prophecy
Of times less constipated and consternated---
Who died and were made kings.
We bleat canonically at the lupine knowledge
Forever lost in Howling cycles of reverence
Birthed by deference.

Let the tragedy of the hero
Expire in vain;
A tumult of sin,
crazed Auto Da fe.

The Continued Allure of 7:10

Though I can’t claim we’ve faced it all, it’s not far off to say we’ve endured the gauntlet. Time and again Time has snuck by, playing the ominous fiddle at fairy tales end, yet what a beautiful accompaniment it’s been. Change is consistently wreathed in a mystique of fear and awe, though that kernel of beauty (contained in it’s midst) is worth the uncanny trials of metamorphosis. We’ve played the days with the rugged endurance necessary to claim accomplishment in the dire circumstance all around. Salvation unto ourselves, I can’t even begin forming the letters that spell “Regret”, nor would I fathom to gauge their temptation. Life with you has been a steadily simmering revelation; one whose epiphanies could never be duplicated in transcendental texts or soul searching sojourns. Quite simply: through the lens of your love, through the rapturous adventure of life throbbing in your veins, and through your abiding commitment to this union, you’ve shown a man what sobering wonderment the world truly contains.

My Tatiana, few people ever truly grasp how blessed they are. Beneath all the hazardous day-time mundanities, the up-start emotional roller-coasters, and duty’s all consuming sense of progress, the bedrock of your love has been the foundation for this soul. I’ve quit worrying about miles and minutes, thrown aside the insidious capacity to self-immolate, and accepted that love exists through honesty, communication, and compromise. To wherever our journey takes us, I take this moment to reflect upon the truly Sui Generis being I’ve spent a year’s time with, and most importantly, to restate my thanks for opening up these prisonous eyes to the beauty of a life with you.

The time still reads “7:10" (like I knew it would), and the confectionary glory that spawned that crush has evolved into a full-blown amorous inferno. I love you more times than I could ever write (or find fancy metaphors for)and it is that above all else that elates my spirits at the prospect of a future with you.

Happy Anniversary my love, and Happy Valentines Day!

-Yours

Frustration's Vent

Days’ conspiracy:
Parking-spots vacuum sealed,
Internet Bermuda triangle
LOST
Palpable sentience

Ennui doesn’t
Quite satisfy.
Leaves unsatiated
The emptiness—should be more appealing—
Really
Is the eye’s light disappearing.

Frustration is a carnivorous disease
Meticulously gnawing
Patience’s pristine gleam.
Dulling it, whoring it, fraying it glorious—
Until blackened snow organs
Vent through cavernous eyes.

It was a fight worthwhile of the bruise;
Bodily tattoos etched through strength’s ruse.
Along the picket fence of warbling time,
Someone greater than you deigned
Life’s suffering bulk ride the roads of your hide.

Stockpile stoicism,
For bravery is no longer half-price.