36

disorientation of the son, septu in hades

I’m emptied out, a soul fatigued by a fog that suffocates
embedded in the terrain of troubled sleep
the seekers are falling apart at the seams
their pastel oracle cards failing them
mini metallic dice to seal false fates
women who adored energies are weeping
shrouded figures behind them, imposing the weight of weariness

I’m pushing along endless unlit corridors
the mall is shuttered and abandoned
life sucked out of her walls
unable to find the way home

unable to find mother and father

I am without compass here
cut off from the loom
frustrated, restless, desperate, departed
in a place that is not theirs but mine

a dead man says he knows me here
from the time of neonmancy
I’m robbed of knowledge
I ply a trade that does not pay

I cannot find father and mother

there are no boats on Acheron or Lethe
the Styx is a knotted mess inside me
no stairways upwards or doorways out
I’m a child left behind in this colourless world
leaving bridal chamber for burial grounds

mother gets up from her wheelchair
but I’m not there to hold her
father is silent
I’m on a lost floor, maps confounded
wounded with perpetual loss
memories, false
sanctuary, crumbling
no signs or voices to lead the way
only hounds, barking without end