“I hear you,” she screams,

Her voice echoing in the silence

Of a disquieted mind.

Fists pound temples

As temptation reigns

In paper-wrapped glass.

The sins of a thousand years

Await release, gnawing

At the bars built

To keep the world out

And the furies within.

Breath rasps, the belly of the snake

Drawing sinewy strength

From the still-warm sands

Of memory and desire.

Head sags, body slumps,

Blood slows, anguish grows.

Write, Sisyphus, write.

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