Empty as my glass I feel the last
Drops of me slither within seeking to abscond,
Abandon my corpse in search of a new abode,
A more vigorous body and a spirited one.
Betwixt diurnal weeps and nocturnal cold sweats
They find their egress through inflamed eyes,
Their escape through pores clogged by impurities,
I bleed out salt effusing scents of my essence
Evanescing.
Chocking on words I am unwilling to utter
Their absence grants space to confusion,
Clouding a deserted mind stranded
In the abyssal darkness of a void involucre.
Indifferent to my plead imploring them to stay,
Intolerant of my exhaustion they do not believe
My promise, that I will rise again, endure,
Overcome obstacles repossess, my Self.
Yet again how could I possibly revive if they persist
In sneaking out of me? Why shouldn’t they aspire
To gleesomer existences? Who am I to hold
Them back? And with a cough, I exhale my last drop.
[Featured painting: Miserere 1 by Jeremy Geddes]