In my remonstrance to all things melancholy
My predilection for long lost childhood intervenes
Happenstance? I know not what is within me
To constantly resurrect half forgotten scenes....
Woe betide the bearer of the besom at its task
If it cleanse the cluttered attic of my memories
Yet often within myself I have seen it fit to ask
The reasons inside that salvages such as these....
Callous Beelzebub hath striven to keep me so
Has held me in his scabrous claws from escape
If it were not for he my feeble mind would go
And lose itself inside the bilious fermented grape....
The lustrous sheen of childhood lies in ruinous pall
All memories jettisoned into a maelstrom's maw
I cannot shine a light of reason on anything at all
It's as if my mind is shackled by some unwritten law....
All jeweled memories festooned with encrustations
An all pervasive ambience odoriferous of musk
My mind wrapped in a fancy setting of frustrations
As if written in sanskrit scrimshaw upon yellowed tusk.....
While I slowly fade away inside myself infinitesimal
I carry close to my heart memories torn and shredded
While I struggle to retain coherence, unsuccessful
I am nearing the blank space I most deeply dreaded....
