Fortune Does Not Apply

Fortune Does Not Apply
© Surazeus
2025 10 14

To prove fortune does not apply to me 
I break keys off the typewriter with pliers 
and scatter them as seeds in dusty soil 
where they spring into novelists with pens 
who cut their wrists and bleed words into books 
about sad women who carry white roses. 

Stuck in the black house on the busy road, 
bound in place by red shadows of the night, 
I enter lives of strangers as they pass 
to hear their sorrows faint as withered leaves 
that float near fractured surface of the mirror, 
wrapped in form of suffering we endure. 

Though my body was wounded long ago 
I refuse to revenge myself with hate 
because I live instead without concern 
for whether anyone loves me or not 
since I can distinguish desire from need, 
creating houses based on bitterness. 

Eccentric torment of forgotten hope 
molds twisted forms of angry human souls 
who imitate tall writhing trees of fear, 
yet smell sweet scent of rosemary and thyme 
that bloom in window boxes after rain 
though we compete against our better selves. 

Flowers on hills glitter with morning dew 
while people driving cars crash into rage 
that shatters civic pride in stolen wealth 
each time the sun reveals beauty of death 
concealed by lies on television shows 
till snow shrouds everything in absent faith. 

Buoyant by nature of attentive love, 
we travel to museums filled with masks 
that gods once wore on pyramids of power 
where children now write their true secret names 
with curving letters of blood on flat stones 
which substitutes the image for the face. 

I see the world around me with glass eyes 
which I forge from childhood anxieties 
concealed in memories of the silver sky 
that weigh my brain with moments of regret 
more bright that stars that gleam on fretful lakes 
till I can see the world as it is now. 

I watch strange lights of Heaven bleed new words 
so I know nothing by my steady breath 
when I exchange contempt for tense respect 
as rain streams along landscape of my body 
where grief and happiness share clever tales 
which proves fortune does not apply to me.