Internal Landscapes III

Internal Landscapes III (Italian Sonnet)

Exists no life outside of what I am:

A tool, a vice, the bones of man I break

On silver platter, pay them all they stake.

Not charmed, entranced, by words and wages, scam–

Far worse than those who by my sword are damned;

Compliant; force my aid, they need not make:

Renounced existence all to thee forsake.

I bow the knee, how can I be a sham?

There’s nothing known of time before, mind rinsed,

I’ve never seen the light beyond this place,

If light they call it, me, you can’t convince.

I take my place amidst a red blood sky,

The severed head supplies a paint effaced,

Drip down my cloak, not tempted I to cry.


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