Phantasmagoria

Pallid with sunken cheeks, sanguine lips, eyes

hidden by a black veil,

and a crimson rose in her slick, midnight hair,

the specter of past love took my hand.

The drops of blood flowing from her slit wrists

melted flesh from my palms.

I pulled away with all my might

for the burning was unbearable

and broke free to the sound of her hellish screech

 

only to land in the arms of Wealth.

Clad in a tight, red dress,

the jewels on her neck and in her ears

reflected by the shine of her sapphire eyes.

She kissed me. Her tongue, tasting of honey

and wine turned mine to gold,

leaving me unable to beg for help as she robbed me blind

and disappeared.

 

I fell to the ground, where I resigned myself to lie

until I felt the mossy embrace of Solitude, slime

covering my body wherever she touched.

Her beauty was unmistakable, despite her tresses of vines,

musty scent, and the spiders obstructing her face.

Yet, as she seduced and mounted me, I

felt my life begin to slip in vain.

Lost in her embrace, my existence became pointless,

and I drew aghast, wishing Death find me next.

***

(Puyo, Ecuador -- September, 2017)

After floundering away the summer, still feeling like a failure for the way my time in Mozambique ended and still nursing a nasty case of post-concussion syndrome, I decided to return to the monkey sanctuary in Ecuador where I had worked when I was 18 to hopefully find some sort of clarity. It was like magic. From the second I got there, it felt like a fog had been lifted from my mind. I was able to reflect on my own thoughts and feelings without fear of being sucked back into a depression, and I was beginning to feel a lot of freedom to explore more symbolism and stronger imagery in my poetry. This is one of my favorites from that time in my life.