Snakes and Ladders
The spigot that you opened
profusely bled upon its frailty
seducing leprous hope
festering from the very roots
taken for granted
like prayers sent forth
your own bastion
riding the crest of waves
oblivious of these lamentations
You pour and pour
and buoy whilst I sank
in your eloquent etude
Before your eyes
the pendulum swings
in a monosyllabic hymn
a shotgun darting through
the clean lines of dancing
through the limbo
of self-defeat
and self-centeredness
and like a defunct clock
I wallowed with your
sporadic and lusty
clockwork hands
jumping in a brawl against
the soldiers of dementia
From flamboyant arguments
to lean conversations
the tethers weaken
and broke the linkage
between our charades
there was nothing left
in you - but that is a lie
feigning a valor
to jump into the eyes
of a famished abyss
where the aeons rung
the ladders, the snakes:
the venoms and the staves
that we tried to play
but conquered us instead
Like a connoisseur of espionage
you made yourself estranged
like a crow perched
on a leafless tree standing
in a sunless chasm, your plumes
devoured everything
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poem by Norman Santos
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