Fickle

What is happiness worth to one who only sees

the subtle derision in every smile?

Or in life- quick

stolen moments, dulled by an artificial glow.


What a brilliant play life sometimes dreams,

in which the burden of being can be satiated

with epiphanic measures-

like plucking a single photon

from the sunset.

But here you are deceived-

 

full of Athens and warm electric nights,

pleasures to give each experience a value.

 

All for which we reduce ourselves to writhing forms

-hungry mouths meeting in a venomous exchange of lust-

I fathered the dawn.

 

And for this impertinence I am baptized

Prometheus.

 

For what pleasure can one seek in

the company of desire- while desire

haunts the reverberation

where its final beat to be realized fades

into the rhythm of a child tracing the contours of your ear.

—-Jonathan Renfield

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s