Skull

I dusted off the dust and tried to see if there were worms
Beneath a countenance of confidence
While I, behind a mask of domino and actions obstinate
Sat behind a window wearing fog from all the softly whispered words

And picking at the pictures like the old, and peeling paint
Upon the obelisks and oubliettes
I wondered long on Ios, poor Ophelias, and Juliettes
Wearing gloves and monocles, and looking for a name, however faint

I emptied out the emptiness and drank ’til I was full
Using a cup of coded confidence
Where, like the hangman’s daughter, I was not immune to consequence
Resting, you, or maybe I, on wooden pillows over lands of wool

And chasing, like a chalice, filled with all I wished to know
I asked a question of a quandary
You answered like an absent word, “You never did belong to me.
And after all that was, and for the darkness that you hold
You ought to know
You’re gonna leave an ugly skull
After you go.”


I’ve been on a big Acid Bath and Agents of Oblivion kick recently. This poem was inspired by the song The Hangman’s Daughter. Good song.

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7 thoughts on “Skull

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