I’m moving.

As such I need to take all of the things and put them into boxes; this means going into my closet, a place I haven’t been in almost a decade. When I did I found a CD-R with a bunch of old files burned onto it. There’s some hits, there’s some misses, and there’s some that are just wtf. I believe this to be one of the latter. This is a poem I wrote, date stamp says 5/10/2003. This is wholly embarrassing, but if you fancy a laugh, read on:

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The Vast Anguish Below

I exist in this world as a lonely fragment of charred remains.  My soot is spread this way and that.  My body flung by the cloven hooves of some trotting equine.  My stirs are wrought with pain and blight.  The crashing sounds of my coarse harbor echo in my solitary mind.  A relative onslaught of negativity becomes me as I drive my fickle self into the abyss of earth.  Doth my hand tremble as my fingers move to grasp any fixed stone or silky plait of woven weed?  The tremble serves to undo me.  My body be ruined, it is mingled with the darkness of the void.  Light and soul escape me, dark and stone negate me.  My anguish lies below me, in a pool of vast everlasting.  I take the plunge as I hold my own hand.  My limbs flail not and my eyes are closed.  But I still see.  My mind is in a lucid state and I see myself from a fixed position far by the pool side.  My mind looks up, though my thought wanders. The pool is too grand to lose hint of it for a mere instant.

The splash comes with great delight,  I release my limbs to do as they please within the delicate exertions of force that the velvet anguish provides.  It is glacial and my mind slows.  The trees above me cackle and brunt their leaves as if I was a gust of winter rigor.  The marl that encircles me dries and fractures upon its sight of me.  The inward draws of the liquid swill make it so.  The mire below me is resplendent with moldered arteries that bring forth a fiendish sludge that mirrors the blood within my own veins.  I sink to the canvas below not heeding instinct or challenge from above.  Any efforts would be forfeit.  My breath is taken, just as my pleasure.  The broth enters my wind channels and I exhale.  A fine brume escapes my lips.  A brume of pink shreds that must have settled within my raw lungs now expels itself from my pared lining.

I stand.  My steps shape and yield according to the context of loam beneath my slender hoists.  The pool ground bends and moves with the torpid potency of my pronounced gait.  The watery anguish that surrounds me continues to seep into my every vesicle and pore.  My gait never falters.  My steps never cease.  The density of the pool does not serve to hinder my progress toward the margin of the largish basin.  Articles of dead relic linger in my sight and undulate as I pass through them.  My vessel is devoid of all oxygen as I stumble through the dark chasm.  Ivory shards protrude the humus as if the mire were thick with white fang and bone.  My feet suffer what my eyes are too weak to see.  The sound of rippling enters my mind as I near the surface of the watery tomb.  Some small fall or movement of decay from a horror above I would guess.  I must emerge.  My device of conjecture punctures the glass surface.  My useless expectorate conduit ascends from the confines of the water body.  My proboscis detects a smell of burning leaves.  I continue my walk.  The pursuit of the lake margin closes as I take my final step onto the thirsty marl.  I furrow bent and collapse.

A frothy wheeze escapes my once vigorous mouth.  A rivulet of clear fluid issues from my facial openings and streams the shallow fissures of the gray coast.  I am paralyzed.  There is naught to do but wait for the torturous corrosion that the maggots will soon bring.  My eyes are still closed and my limbs still do not flail.  I am dead.  My body tells me so.  And the smell of burning leaves comes back to me once more then dissipates as if to play one final antic to a tragic end.  My suffering, my plight supersedes my vitality.  I sink into the marl and become it.  I settle my mind’s gaze upon the faces of the dead.  I am pleased that I am no longer alone.  My lifeless brothers wither by my side.

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Wonderful…