Run On

Saturday Asides: A Weekly Presentation of Poetry and Prose

Styx: Hated

Run On

Incisive shimmers singularly slither atop the undercurrent 
of dissolution's deeply emetic imbibement, 
between the tempestuous banks of life and death, and dig-in
against our recalcitrantly oppositional eternity's riven ineluctability: 
indelibly bound to the telluric underbelly of interest's wayward flow—
where the merest touch spells calamity for clarity.

Fugitive auras of innocence are painstakingly rendered forth 
over the course of a thousand cuts and coined for the crossing.

The rudderless hand over the helm
to be guided across the tonal shift 
of this great dream's delusive verisimilitude.