Autophagia

I bear without forbearance or relish
all the unthinkable sins of my ancestors –

                              too numerous to count, name, or fathom.

                              My teeth are forever set on edge.

I slip from moment to moment –

                                         unnoticed, invisible,
                                         forever entombed in the space in-between,
                  and that all too regrettable senility of the forever young
                                                                                    in an old old city. –

I cherish nothing but the wilderness inside of me.

I reach out for a hope, any hope,

                                                           out there,
                                          no matter how evanescent or illusory,
                      and I wallow in the smoldering ashes

                                                of that elemental angst
                                                                                flourishing inside of me
                               endlessly crashing against my chest –

                                                                   my destiny, it seems, is to be forever ravished
                                                                                                        by my own worst of fears,
                                             and an undying longing for rest.

April 26, 2004