Clairvoyant

Cards cascade across parquet

floor, a simple invitation

to a hymnal, or perhaps a beheading,

shadows quivering into skin within

shifting peripheral visions.

Slip into the scenery

slowly, as if hollowed and hovering

wholly towards some historical

unknown. A duvet groans,

garrulous as collective

unconscious, as the seas in which

we drown our conscience. Scylla

and Charybdis huddle in the metaphorical

floorboards for warmth, their memory

fading in apathetic future. Atheistic

tunes flutter in the distance, afloat

in Technicolor madness, in the striations

of rabid persistence. Listen, the spaces

between us have shifted. We are not

what we present to ourselves

pillowside, nor the reedsongs

sung steadily beneath our lies.