Red Red Wine

Importunate incision with the blemishes--

The fireworks in the sky celebrate
The invasion of the worms in the grains
Of my livid conscience,
Shunned along the trifling margin
Of my real existence in the muck.

I am the dark tragic hero of a post modern

Freudian epic.
Creeping through the pits in my soul
The needles of flaw prick me to scarlet.

I fall from grace to ignominy.
Friend is a fancy
But I, myself  and me.

With the broken pieces of my sliver
I slit my eye-pits for a drop of tear
To soothe my dried path of pilgrimage
To salvation from wrath,
To futily from reveries....