zenith stratus
Where is the truth in the matter?
Tides push and pull platitudes,
Eyeless faces with empty chatter,
All crowding my solitude.
They speak as a conscience,
Goading my desires—
Molding my reliance,
My secrets burn upon pyres.
Betrayed with a kiss,
Lusts stumble from my members.
Promising temporal bliss,
They only conceal the fetters.
Does verity begin to shatter?
Severing limbs to not perish,
Desperate, I climb Jacob’s ladder,
Begging for the truth to persist.
gleaming citrus
Strong work. Opening question is powerful.
You characterize the crowd as passive being moved by tides of platitudes: Empty meanings for empty people.
All the while, they crowd your solitude. Meaningless words rob the speaker of his peace.
Yet they are your conscience. A kind of devil on your shoulder you rely on while you burn the secret truths you search for.
“Lusts stumble from my members” has a clumsy flow, and the meaning is unclear.
The last stanza is my favorite. Well put together and dense.
Overall impressive, abstract, and heartfelt.