Tristan Robert Lange
the skull called place
This damnable day drones on
just over halfway through
it has felt like an unbearable eternity
each miasmic moment moribund
speech reduced to manducation
the thirst is endless
yet nothing will quench it
it is there to remind
that suffering is to be
the world weaponizes and devours
from the moment of birth
belonging was not a reality.
scorn wears a blood stained shroud
punitive punishment for
pushing for penitent posturing
people scoff
they are confident in their confusion
their ignorance an igloo
love can still be felt for them
their hate harms them
reconciliation is a rewarding road
a reckoning with reason
what is the reason
what is the reason for all this death
why is it that abandonment finds its roots
deep in faithful soil
why is it that humans paint trees red
suspenseful suspension aids in tanning
but there is no sun this day
no friends show support
no miracle for mother
solidarity comes with vultures
pecking at a carrion carcass
half-living
weight becomes a weapon
hypoxic dreams set in
suff-
o-
cating serenity
leads to
s
u
r
r
e
n
d
e
r
a long
slow
pause
before
completion
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.