being contented
and therefore
there is no millstone
to push around in the brain-grey
even life’s bad strokes prove useful
their hex weds lesson to reason.

an ironic orgy of nothing
as if luck did not exist
the upswing contains drops of Yin
a little poison for the system
their hex blesses endurance, immunity

strength is the name of the game
those grains pass the cinch in the hourglass
so slowly & fatally the descent brings education
is there enough left for to better steal [our] time?

To The Lady of Flies on the Event Horizon:

“Let starless dark night skies strafe
your glowing chambered eyes.
As stirring maelstrom cosmos
those sable pearls will shine.

Grant ebon glaring eyes, grace
confined so dark and wise,
leer captured incandescence;
this universe now dies.”

Her ornamental gaze secretes,
fills blackened oceans as it weeps,
and frozen so, a heart retreats
too cold, too black to nourish flies.