Mission Creep

I first felt it slipping away while it was coming on strong

like a perfect storm of perfect storms

half over once the clouds blow along.

Anticipation is 3/4 of all pain,

all agony, all incremental gains on violent collapse.
For vampires to hemophiliac
I take the blame
go rightless by accession

force-fed in extreme silence

by those unlimited in dreams

who pander to the emptiness

inside my inner libertine

jungle lawyers, secret coroners

tending to the furnace of their golden ages

where façade and superstructure turn dispensable

as the cries

of a billion creatures

oiled up by Extradispensable Needs

scams and shams

and outrages dispensed into ether

assuring more mayhem

the way it should be.

It's so easy to get dark

when who controls the darkness prospers.

Overfull of myself
like triathletes who inject their own blood

the day before racing

where the advantage wanes

there comes tremendous pain

I tried to map the impossible

nexus of variables

tangling up to Us.

But every time voices

voices chime in

like a jet with an acronym

muscling into my sun

lest some lost wing of calculus

lets me plaster the last

cornice of Babel

and witness the foundation hold

the answers answer less and less,

expand their libraries, divide their librarians

til eternity turns into a monster

ventilated, uncontrollable, lawful in the extreme.

So the Tower crumbles here

gets constructed there.

So you cannot gather up the ocean

without drowning in its arms.

So smile for the chimera
mutable as species
too delicate to last:

Nimrod, Icarus, Washington.

I am quiet but in me

the songs of your cul-de-sac

do not go unsung.