Tearbleeding, there’s too much news
Of sad tragedies playing out
Looped like unhinged terror
Grinding teeth while fingertips
Pull glide
Slow, like mixed emotions
Down a blackboard
Screaming into the back of your skull
Discordant
Off-putting
Into another constellation
Forgetting stars in the tumble to Tartarus
Sourcing immortal suffering
Which goes on incessantly
Still
Even though
We thought we’d achieved a measure of beauty
Nothing transcends the grand design
Nothing
David Trudel © 2013
