Vitriol
Deep in the confines
of the terrible tunnel
of the Beast,
I reside and bargain
for my release.
Like the fecal beetle
that urges new life through decay,
it begs the æther
to bring forth life
as it takes one away.
Transplanted peering souls
lingering and stray
being coy and asking questions
to the cosmos
“do you think I can prevail?”
I hear answers but they’re just echoes
bent by the stars and moons.
I who dare to surmise
I don no disguise but simply
feign wise;
I continue to query
to no end I’ll never bury
this desire within me to know
the formula, the theory, the thesis
Finally I stand; I’m free still
dripping with vitriol.
Weary but determined I scream
“to what avail?”
