Read Poem: Bedrock’s Testament, by Merple

I write

I write often

Of an ethereal figure

He has no name

His presence

I can’t fathom

Only feel

Through the words I impart

Into the folds of napkins

On nights of drunken stupors

And banal escapades

Riveting in exaggeration

Dim bulbs and iridescent neon

Grim eyes with hairless brows

Fifty kilogram weight on my sole

Lower than the floor I stand on

Only then,

And only ever then,

I pray

For Clarity and Truth and Purpose

Sans scripture

Solely silence

“It was not written for me”

Cloudy, unwarranted comfort

In the fiction we tell ourselves