Posted on

Pitiful Wight

O what a luxury it was to be awoken by the sound of silence
Long ago when silence was anywhere
Its hollow ring soothed my lids ajar
Released the dew from my lashes
I wipe away a tear
My HVAC has forgotten which season it is

Shrieking tinny cacophony
Aggravates me away from sleep
O what a luxury it was to be awoken by the sound of silence
Long ago

wood and road

I rise
Which only serves to prove that I have fallen
Too late to make fresh coffee
It is man’s lot to toil
Live by the sweat of his brow
But I do not sweat
Nor am I man
And yet I toil

O pitiful wight
Sad and woeful spirit
I once subsisted off the land
The Earth herself
But man has bought the land
Sealed in contracts
Magick of judicial grimoires
And I who is faerie folk and of the land
Must produce on behalf of the land
Tentative tenancy, I labor
That I may stay beside my mother’s breast

My kind was caught surprised
By their spells
And their force
And their cunning hypnotic feature films
Elders evicted
And the boohag fined for disturbing the peace

Wrapped in slave linens of poly-cotton
I garb myself for today’s tortures
O fragile nymph whose skin is in bondage
To at least be leashed by a tie less ugly
Or shackled by whole socks
Socks would never tatter in elfin shoes
Nor would my ankles blister

Cursed cursed fate
O cruel and monstrous circumstance
Have I forgotten it is Friday
And my report is due
Damn the gods
Particularly the young gods
Of networks and social media
They laugh from their cloud
Count my wasted hours scrolling, my interrupted Wi-Fi

My eyes and ears crepuscular
Suffer the din of mankind’s world
Trains and planes
Iron replicas of dead dragons
Shuttling empty souls each Morrow
Midday devoid of frivolity, and only 45 minutes to eat my sushi
Damn them and their world
Even-time with no fire no song
Only toil from sun rise to fall
To earn the space
Upon the land
Their magick stole

I forgot my airpods
Damn this world