Fangs and Claws #2

Part 2

Or The First Zombie

The bottomless pit
Of content and horror
Deterritorialising
My eyes
My mind.

In the consummate fangs
Of the fiddle device
Everything is a spectacle
A performance, a caprice
His voyeuristic instincts
Blindingly perverse
Not unlike my doggerel verse.

Every blade of grass
Every drop of mist
The moss on the stones
And the cyst in his wrist
Blotted out in a luminous dark
Acamar, a perfect hedonist.

As the ancient Yogis say
A total loss of Svarūpa
Who was it, was it Nāgārjuna?
A monk by the river
Or a betrayed Moctezuma?

Device with the fangs
Also had a claw
And now they burn some flambeaux
Acamar, the first Zombie.

~mk

Broken roof tiles.