Friday

Trapped.
Like the duck in the bottle,
my anger rises in clouds that burst forth
breaking glass.
There are passing moments of distraction
but my mirror image never lets me go.
"Leave me be. Let me have my peace."
Under a frozen mound
sleeping
waiting
watching
five became two
one stands out
Yeats grabs my lapel and screams at me.
I can't hear
Take your snow
Take your moments
Fenrir comes to move me
You have your apocalypse
I have Ragnarok.
Fleeting
Never-ending.
A pain and sorrow that binds me.
Precise as the scalpel
Sharp as the vows
Quixote steals my soul and rides.
Trapped
in my own vengeance