Little Black Boxes Iii
I have collected strange things…
In this obscure life…
I have placed them in
Little Black Onyx Boxes old and ornate covered
inlaid with exotic stones, metals forged unknown
These objects are memories from an odd land
gathered during the wages of a ruined life…
Throughs of inner realms at night
I have taken each one out to study
to ponder
to obsess
and to plunder!
Each a strange thought of design!
Each a past regret or greatest fear!
Of my dreams never dreamt never felt
in this fleeting space are made real.
Objects of desire or dismissed images,
imagery that sits
on dusty shelves
of ornate ornaments…
Hide n obscure abstract views, a sacrament
a belief in profane dichotomy
blurred burning
black imagery…
Photos strobe of a vast city…
In overdrive a fine morticians twine
used to sew my dead eyes shut
A ring, symbolic of love
a union, broken misplaced trust
all these odd ornate objects
are needed in my oblique memory!
In a shadowbox, shells from smoking guns,
letters of deceit
bloodstains on fine pure white
volumes vile, full of my own inner pain
pour PURE rain…
Burnt things left under the harsh stars
I pick each up dust them off
Layered in a vermilion of rust
I placed them in rows of memories!
I feel the gathering of crows
a murder in memory
watching as a witness
Of strange thoughts
as these things gather
in my night!
Little onyx black boxes all inlaid with toxic metals
cold stones from Oddlands of the unknown.
Each image is a bitter memory left unshorn…
… each stored in little black boxes…
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