Eritros Kenon

The agonizing silence of a man

Begging a corpse for permission to exist

A red-shift receding into the absolute vacuum

A praseodymium weave within an uvarovite crater

Here, the nerve-architecture shatters

Refracted into light through dioptase

Cinnabar silk lines the fractured vault of cuprite

Where the ghost of a pulse ignites in the crocoite’s vein

This is the geometry of longing: a red frost of realgar

A sun bleeding through glass, forever out of reach

You'll never be clean

Rotten children don't deserve heaven

Sanctified by sin, I let you pull me in

No angels, no saints, only skin to skin

Erythrite blooms, the terminal salt of the veins

A geometry of absence, a beautiful famine

Rhodium-threaded, the Padmarashka’s ghost

A lattice of proustite, light-starved and deep

In the tantalum stillness, where rare earths are lost

The painite’s red ache as gems in a needle crown

The debt of light is paid in the currency of the blind

A slow, dry surrender to the winter of thought

The precise, cold constellations of a sky that never knew my face

I searched for a soul in that iris and found only a clinical light

The kind that illuminates the wound but refuses to heal the bite

Your gaze is a lighthouse on a coast that does not exist

Guiding my ship to a wreck I was never supposed to resist