What is the cause of this self destructive affliction,
turned backwards and dizzy,
off center equalibrium.
Vengeful clouds
showing soffits of light in the distance.
Laying claim to the victim of mayhem,
ones becoming.
Slow winding of clocks fade away with a drag
as the winding clocks chain hits the floor
with a sag.
For nothing is left but a pale reminiscence,
of a horseman left battered
from his very existence.
We loved
like we fought, slugging our way toward each other,
sending up flares to announce our advance. And when our city
burned, we stood in the ashes, and admired each other’s
bodies. Now I ask you: how will we manage
without the steadiness of our long unhappiness?