Foxmask

This harsh dark bold towering text,
black on off-white yellowing curling page,
reminds me of why I thrive on contrast:
indistinction, indiscretion, misdirection,
tools of the Foxmask facing aggression.
I thrive, die, vivify.

Pale cold oceanic salt blur-
I cannot sleep angry and ashamed,
even though you are as blinded
by spacetime as by mock faith and mirror virtue.

This dull steady pathos-flood of oceantide quietus
validates, vindicates;
night and solitude, however,
ransom sensibility
and so I hold onto my perhaps
damnfool hope for your burgeoning regret.

(copyright a(scetic)verse, 1/21/2009)