FESTERING, PUTRID, DECAYING
nothing changes
at the core,
all this chaos
whips around
but does not budge
the center
for good or ill;
nothing shifts
yet in that stasis
is decline,
is a lingering
which corrupts;
there is no motion,
is no growth,
festering, putrid,
decaying
all efforts
to turn around
are stymied,
all striving
to arise
to break the chain
are futile,
always failure
dreams go pitiful
and insane,
there are no roads left
not taken
or not darkly mined
against us;
we are frozen here,
unmoving
no vectors are
sufficient here,
no distance takes
the pain away;
we cannot reach
beyond this place,
and feel the doom
press in on us
- Brendan Tripp
09/03/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp