T H E E N D C O M M U N E

The Ship of Trauma

the ship set sail in exile

    and left for the ocean,

       and no end had it―

          neither ship nor ocean.

   but the ship was flagged

   with the colors of discontent

       so that it could be spotted

       on the blue amorphous nothing

              which framed it. 

 and it was heard, a beast howling!

   and it echoed across the sea which slept.

  and the great wyvern of the ocean

       also slept on…

       existentialism’s oarfish,

       anadromous beast of the soul-river

       wailing deathly.

the silence was deafening and intense:

      loud and ear-splitting,

      like only total silence can be.

the ship sailed and sailed  

across the water of the earth;

    it did also sail spectrally

    across thresholds

   of weird and undefinable dimensions

     and trapped it become

     by the spell, lure of dissolving objectivity.

       apparition bizarre:

       madness re-shapes itself

       after an eternity in the formless waters.

memorial remnants of paedophilac molestation.

  festivals of unspeakable abuse re-awake.

 miasmal visions, unknown spiritual magisteria.

  eyes of sulphur dripping into psychological wounds.

   discarded denied memories,

      ocean of bleak remembrance.

the dreadful face of all the unknown unknowns

     puking devastating mental imagery

     from eyes as voids.

a banshee shrieks and it echoes

   across the sea

      which awakes.

and mares cry

   and it echoes

     across the sea…

         which is dead.