Memories

Michael L’oil Fol

Michael McCormick

So they whisper, slither, gliding,

Across consciousness abiding.

And they taunt, torment, digress,

With a silken slight caress.

The wondrous, of course survive,

Forever fading, less alive.

Shrouded haze upon the surface,

Consciousness without a purpose.

It’s the pain, poignant contrast,

That is held unto the last.

It is ever stabbing, rending,

Guilty bleakness, never ending.

Echoes of some sweet delight,

Lost in times eternal flight.

Immaterial mind musing,

Once clear pictures, now confusing.

A first kiss, consuming taste,

Of first love’s luscious embrace,

Turns to dying, dust, decrepit,

As a cunning mind forgets it.

And yet the boundless, baneful burn,

Of hateful words, takes up its turn,

Living clearly, as if just uttered,

Viewed through a window, left unshuttered.

And so they wonder, whither, fade,

The stuff of which nightmare is made.

Ever fleeing, floating, flitting,

Through a mind that’s unremitting.

Bringing, boundless, brooding horror,

Slipping softly, through the stupor.

Wasted wishes, left ignored,

With ceaseless suffering assured.