These words scald your ears
As they drink in, bittersweet;
Sinful truth- my salt-soaked heart -
Burns your eyes even when rewritten,
The victor conquered by eloquence.

Clutch the Magic Eight Ball;
Questions roar to a hush as deaf
Clotho weaves a longer skein of anxiety,
And blood pools beneath the eyes
Of this exhausted conflict.

Ancient sighs extinguish
Defiant flames; windows felled
By a little red hatchet,
And our arms cannot hold the fragments
Of our hearts’ caustic requiems.

Fall silent, phoenix song.
Never again rise from my lips,
Never praise this haggard devotion,
But smolder with my tears
On our mutual pyre.