i.                   Pain
To be as fracturable as a cloud.
To fragment in the wind
Or shift to any spineless shape.
Yet burn inside beyond.
Roasts competing hearts,
Then, now, or to come. 
In the fire of a most drastic fire. 
Fire-eating fire… world-eating… Life. 

          ii.                 Grandeur
Lightning rifts
Assuming light ::
Monologues to god, 
	             I know nothing

          iii.            Neurasthenia
There are no lies.
Everything is uttered beneath a mask 
That makes it true:
The destiny of Destiny: flowers on a tree. 

Everything falls apart,
But broken individuals have their reign. 

Persimmons of age…

The fantasia of delight
Makes Hell’s dark circles bright;
I am single of desire;
Lust knelt down and called me sire. 

What isn’t born still dies
                  When its channels into life are dried.

— S. T. Brant is a Las Vegas high school teacher. His debut collection Melody in Exile was released last year. His work has appeared in numerous journals including Honest Ulsterman, EcoTheo, Timber, and Rain Taxi. You can reach him on his website at ShaneBrant.com, Twitter: @terriblebinth, or Instagram: @shanelemagne.

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