Morning Autopsy Friable Poem by Francisco Reichd'Almeida

01 I did not ponder much
As got to slice open
Truly a docile Morning
Gaping my own yawning
Which by the same token
Did make it such


02 Why was it incisive
To razor those Moments
Truthful as lies
Made of whims and cries
So worthy of comments
Blunt and inattentive


03 A flesh of Time slain
My attitude hooked
Though leaving no remnants
Of all remaining Instants
Of guilt being booked
Utterly in vain


04 But guilty as charged
They were nonetheless
Being vastly enlarged
In limitless Range
If of nothing else
Of mere crime of change


05 I heard Time I swore
Being a pawn's game
Grinding Time's teeth
And found Time the culprit
In not being the same
Within my demeanor


06 Was it a lonely Morning
Involved in conspiracy
Accomplice of the Evening
The upcoming Night maybe
Might seem a lethargy
Or tinge of peace bring


07 The blades of my hands
Used a fingers touch
Which autopsied Minutes
Chronological bits
They weren't that much
In those timeless errands


08 In byproduct avenues
Of those autopsied Hours
A wanderlust Back
To weight up and reflect
Upon fading flowers
With passing out hues


09 With Morning's main body
Slashed so open wide
That Time´s veins supply
Made me wonder why
Those Seconds Time provide
Are so senseless oddly


10 Harsh lumps to the left
Possible ways to right
Smoother Whiles difficult
And silences still occult
As Time tried to fight
A Morning's time theft


11 And then away I went
Hoping to be startled
At weapon's evidence
Of Morning's innocence
At Time's heart unthwarted
And certified unbent


12 Was it a watch flesh
Some collateral damage
That did not insist
Insisting to persist
Or was it an image
Of metal cells fresh


13 I hoped to be thrilled
Concluding later on
It wasn't a mistake
At Moment's spur to make
A Momentous decision
Naive and unskilled


14 As I knew indeed
What was the Hell for
Without really knowing
That it was Time flowing
Present as Before
Or After not agreed


15 Upon my indecision
Mornings after all
Were only subjective
Time was a substantive
Vague and unsubstantial
And subject to derision


16 To me was like a liquid
And though never there
Appeared to transform
Some unwritten norm
Neither it was clear
If it ever existed


17 In that kind of game
It analyzed me
As it did not Pass
It was an error crass
That Time could foresee
I wasn't left the same


18 Might it be perhaps
An auto-autopsy
Stressful in intent
A morning to rent
In malevolent glee
A drawing rather sketch


19 Thus now I'm left here
On top of the Afternoon
Noon-of-the-Day seeds
May think that Time bleeds
Maybe I'll know it Soon
But less I wouldn't care


20 Shadow will come as well
Time's fingers also
A wrist with possible bruise
But no Time to loose
Lenient keyboard cursor
Cursing on my spell


21 Tried to place some order
Even some kind of grace
In my sofa of thought
But everything was naught
And nothing was in place
On displaced disorder


22 And right at the end
This expanse or wall
Standing on my way
Smiled as if to say
I'm harsh and I'm apocryphal
I'm here to condescend


23 Summing up alone
I found it crude enough
Fucked up that Time was
It run away because
As a true Time laugh
Was Timed out and gone



Renting bodies each and every morning




Now Time was sliced open at 7: 26 AM almost by the end of winter 2013