LAMENT OF THE FRAGILE FRACTALS
In girum imus nocte et consumimur igni
-Guy Debord
We are the FRAGILE FRACTALS
We are the melancholiacs—
Dasein in the frigid shine of
Unfurled being
Singers beneath a discolored
Banner devoured & drained of time
As above so below—
We are those rare beings for whom
Being is th' issue
Those domesticated angels
Hypertrophied insects supping
Honey smeared on the tip
Of a razor blade
Decay decays to the day
Of malignancy then reverses
Until its exhaustion
And our exhaustion meet
In the sad song—swoon
When the crooner calls us by name
As we ferry feathers through violent
Weather upon wave-strewn open palms
And morally-ambiguous lifetimes
Aboard sleepless transatlantic flights
We see the sickness that surrounds us
As empty, & th' emptiness as sick
We are the FRAGILE FRACTALS
We are the melancholiacs—
Dead under a soaring sign known
As the NIGHTINGALE—
Our forbidden correspondent—
Singers under a false flag
Terror ad nauseam terror
As above so below—
Just falsettos fracturing our fear
We are the melancholiacs
James Bradley