anamnesis

i.

My eyes flick open

In the darkness

I lay there

Listening to the sounds

The guttural whine of stomachs emptying

The grindstone whirs

Muscled into

Revolutions per minute

Gyrating to

Steady kinetic energy

Centrifuging

From the thoughts

Of

The makers

 

ii.

the day sparks into being

being alive

maybe it’s just a dream

I wield an ax

Still in the dark

No, it’s not all dark

There’s some sun

Sifting through the bars of the too small window

But just enough

To know that

I see

I’m alive

 

 

iii.

The handle is rough in my hands

Hewn clumsily

yet skillfully balanced

I swing

Feel the muscles ripple

In response to

Synapses crackling

Terabytes of data

Shooting in an instance

A single arc of

Motion

The doors clank open

 

iv.

I hear them first

As I shuffle in the semi darkness

Right hand firmly planted on the wall

It pulsates

From the stamping of feet

The slice of metal on metal

Climbs above the din

Grunts

The scratch of well-balanced gaits

Locked in a dance in the sands

Chop

Then a roar

 

v.

I am fettered

The cool metal clinks around my waist

My left leg bound

To a ball

My hands

My hands are free

But only just

Chains snake from my forearms

To my ax handle

I can move

In a clumsy man’s shuffle

 

vi.

Blinded

The searing pain

Sets my pores ablaze

The sun

White

My wrists smoulder

As

My chains burn

Etching themselves into my skin

My eyelids flicker

 

vii.

He strikes first

Instinctively I parry

Then dig my heels in

There is a whoosh

As he swings

Too wide

I duck and jab

Into his solar plexus

A heavy grunt

Then there is sand in my eyes

I hear his feet shift

The ground shakes

From the stomping

I am fettered

He swings

Too wide again

I dance away

And swing

An arc curving upwards

I slice

Through skin and bone and sinew

Warm blood kisses my feet

Then there is the roar

 

viii.

The greater good is a necessary evil

It forces men to think outside themselves

For the ultimate pride

We are but playthings

Discarded when we are broken

Cut down in the bloom of youth

Or old and frail and degenerate

If they try to linger

Maybe one day we will know God

Perhaps not

The cool water washes it away

Everything

Leaving not a scar

Of the day

 

ix.

I am unbound

And a brand

White hot

Is held to my cheek

I scream

Not that it matters

A chuck of spit crowns my head

Accompanied by

A flurry of rotten vegetables

And old man’s urine

I see their eyes

Little pools of judgement

And a sadness

Burning behind

Everything

They are sunken in belief

Of everything but themselves

The curses

Smiting my ears

If only they worked

 

x.

The pain!

It cuts through my back

The whip cracks

Agony!

Oh pain

Sweet unceasing pain

After a while

I feel nothing

Smell nothing

Taste nothing

But the coppery tang of blood in my mouth

I see red

As I am jolted to my feet

Everything fades away

White noise

Nothing matters

It breaks you down

Every time you wake

The ultimate savage

Rendering equality as myth

Life

I am weary

Broken

I am alone

A recollection

Of what was

My eyes shut close

Into darkness

 

©_sena_frost ‘17

 

Old-Man Logan-Wolverine, X-Men. Marvel Comics

image courtesy google.com

 

 

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The Frost Epic

​The wind whistles

Ruffling his t shirt

Not too large

But enough to show off his boyish frame

A head and half taller than most

A giant

But still pretty much

Man.

I listened to the wind keening a little more

Then thrust one foot forward

The next

And fell into my usual gait

A mix between ramrod straight marching

And an ambling stride.

You range quickly

And not soon enough

For the highway has come to a torturous end

An inglorious fork

A T-junction of sorrow

The cadence of its finality

Hollow.
He was not used to this

Being done with a person

They were all the same

Even if they stabbed him with a thousand blades

And left him in a lake of his own shortsightedness

He still regarded them as human.

You think it’s funny huh,

You take pride in being perceptive 

But

Where has all that knowledge got you?

Even as the spittle of reality drowns you

An eternal drool of Had-I-done-this

All that forbearance

A bucket load of night soil.

Coolie 

I tell myself

I look behind

And the past smiles at me

Ageless

Unchanged forevermore.

Her perfume wafts towards me

And I falter

Taking her in deep breaths

Wishing

To cast into the hard set die

Because the future is pretty fucked up from where I stand.
“You’re of age

You’re too young to be thinking 

You need to be making this

You should be doing that”

The cacophony of opinions

Scrape along the chalkboard of success.

You wallow in a well of despair

Hoping that someone might fling a pail in

And slosh you all the way to the top

Even if it’s just for pigs to drink.

The pressure perches on my shoulders

A raven of foreboding

Where the journey to life splits into roots of a tree

Going ever deeper

Yet never reaching the core.

The fog has not set in yet

But grudgingly I move forward

But with a mirror in hand

Always checking

From when the highway split into a t junction of sorrow,

Connected by a spool of yarn

As I move further into the labyrinthine darkness

Into decadence.
He’s loved them all

Spaceships engaged in galactic dogfights

Humanoids always more advanced but never better than earthlings

Ha!

The irony.

Dragons belch flames of wrath on medieval battle fields

While gods and giants duke it out in the visceral marshes of their own doom

And then 

I AM

Nothing 

Prepares me for the truth.

I doubt,

And the question of my existence makes me uneasy.

I do not feel beautiful inside,

Yet the winds whip my face 

Which is

Sprouting a scraggly beard

Otherwise a smooth outcrop ready to be climbed by the foolhardy.

Hardly anyone believes in magic these days,

And you know your mythology is monotheistic now

The miasma rolls in

And the sun shines through

Weaving paths of liquid gold 

The known patterns flee your eyes,

The unknown

Bares its fangs at you.
Uncelebrated

Even though I am acknowledged

Kinda like a macho-man’s hand shake

Cordial but crushing.

I trained well at my craft

Honing it

The whetstone scarcely ever flaking

Feasting on the dulled edge

Just so it glints

In the dark night.

The one which rises from the mud on your bare feet

Inky black

Billowing round your eyes

As the voices fade away

Because they were all in your mind

And he

Gullible as always 

Believed that the dark could do him no harm.

Even as he tripped and fell

On his lonely road to nowhere

He rode on his know-here

Because

These were not uncharted waters.

North Star ahead

Scylla geysering on his left

 Charybdis erupting on his right

And the wind urging him on.
Oh gust

What would he do without it?

It rustled his clothes

Whipped the storm from his eyes

And breezed him by on a warm day.

Turbulent and fickle

Yet an unwavering constant in this equation.

It howled now

And I responded in kind

Facing off the pack of rabid hounds uncloaked by the gloom

Unfettered by my imagination,

I let out a bellow.

And you stood there,

Unflinching

Son of the sun

The autumn child

And despite their hungry baying 

The frost kicked in

And snapped their jaws

Shut.
His resolve buoyed

He marched on

Even as his ginormous boyish physique blotted out the day light

Eclipsing his natural features

Their crystalline facets shimmering in the induced twilight.

He was in the zone

And the headphones came on

A curtain of music

Obscuring distractions

So I can hear my thoughts

Living and breathing 

An elephant in the room of my discord

Purposefully strewn 

Because in the dark

They are the nightmares that keep me company. 
The sun, the moon and the truth

Are never hidden from your eyes.

This I know

Because he looms over all

Unfazed.
© Sena Frost 2k16