Sonnet To Myself

bacon

Reuben , Reuben – lonely Reuben –

Why must I always inhabit thee?

Share in your darkness, none can illumine,

A receptacle to all your misery?

My soul hath become a festering thing,

A tumour, demonic, that leaves me not,

This clotted throat no more can sing;

This unhappy heart has all else forgot,

But the corpuscular dimness that muddies these veins,

Drowning all joy, before its first breath,

Choked in its infancy – tutored by pain –

Gasping, bloodily, in its woof and weft,

And ever, oh ever, still I feel in this womb,

Those dead hopes – lying fetus-like – My body: a tomb

 

 

 

 

 

 

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