Unrest

 I stretched in a cenotaph unburdened by your bones,

fashioning a nest of a coffin that I could lie in at night.

It is too dark to be wondering why.

 There are countless ways your name is now etched in gold,

permanence on skin and holes in flesh that can only mimic what you left.

They are tattoos counterfeiting the great emptiness.

 And for my part, I’ve still not completed what you asked of me,

though I’ve squinted over garbled text many times.

I cannot bear to end the quest you’ve sent me on.

 I’ve still never finished House of Leaves.

Reviews

[Matthew Kult]

Hello J.E.

Bloody Tasteful

Always,

Matthew
A.