The Visitant

The Visitant

A Poem by Perdition

The visitant arrives,

It is the bare, gaunt consciousness of the fragile a.m.

Holds your hand and begs of you to pray

To petition at doors and for a gentle mutation

But the visitation is not a friend,

Not a lover, nor a far off peace from the womb

It is the first voice of death-

Your lips in quivering to heaven tells everything

Her legs,

Accepting you now like a war-call itself

Never enough limbs,

Your side begins to bark in routine intervals,

The words forget themselves as giants will, in unfamiliar stars-

You are bleeding from the rack of your strain,

but still

You continue…

Still you drum on in the trace of God,

You force the images, despite their unsavory nest

Written on your wall is a warning of every mad day’s attempt

The world was merely

A spin round carousel,

A horseman’s foolish delight

And you remember now a child that you beat in hunger as a child yourself

This, when you too were the devil’s feast

And tears fall at your reckoning, one as the ocean patterns through hand,

You finally declare, “It is too late for visitors!

Too late this hour for need…

 And the dreams are gone so there is nothing left you see!”

"But perhaps I might join in your naked arena

Out on the clouds where all is shattered

Out in the rain that breeds your flattery"

And you are aware it will not drown you

It will not claim the charm of you today-

And the sleep you may find there

Is ultimately the grace of earth

and bone.

 You tell yourself:

Be well,

Be awake

As the moveable feast

Eat, and when morning arrives

Be of hunger again,

This terror is only a visitor

And is gone with all your belongings,

In the morning your dream will return

And the sheets,

They will again be covered in a dark rude blood.

© 2017 Perdition


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Too many time you inspire me and scare the he'll outta me all at the same time. I never know which I'm trembling from most....

Posted 7 Years Ago


Perdition

7 Years Ago

Well as long as the breath is gone that's all that truly matters in either. Thanks Q! i did think of.. read more

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Added on March 21, 2017
Last Updated on March 22, 2017

Author

Perdition
Perdition

VA



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Keep writing, otherwise I refer to Mr. Cobain more..

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Intuitive Intuitive

A Poem by Perdition