“Tomorrow Is A Victory Over A Lesser Man,” “The Lark,” and “Silk Worm”

“Tomorrow Is A Victory Over A Lesser Man,” “The Lark,” and “Silk Worm”

Photo by Marek Piwnicki on Unsplash

Tomorrow Is A Victory Over A Lesser Man

The days have merged into one

Like an endless musical number

The sequences of which

Play eternally without muse

I woke up

To a message from someone special

Whom I haven't spoken to in God knows how long

I ventured outside my abode

Where I watch time pass

Void of all fervor

I wandered aimlessly

Until I found myself standing alone at the station

Where I saw someone the spitting image

Of a woman I once loved

Who was the furthest thing from ordinary

I stepped onto the train

And sat beside a stranger

Whose face I can recall all too clearly

I fell in and out of slumber

Rocking ever so peacefully in tandem with the wagon

Barrelling down uneven tracks

Drowsy and with eyelids growing heavy

I picked a stop at random

And I got up

And I walked until I reached unfamiliar roads

Stopping at a restaurant

And buying a meal I had never tried

I stepped back out into the frigid cityscape

Paying no mind to the hoards of passersby

I sat under an arched overhang

Gazing at the oil painting in the sky

Which the setting sun

Bestowed upon my doleful eyes

And I ate

And then I remembered something

And then I spewed it all over the pavement

From the wretched depths of my bowels

An unknown force impelled me to get up once more

Like the whim of some cunning deity

Amusing itself with my anguished figure

I collected my thoughts

And resumed my aimless trek

Further down into the unknown streets

Holding within them untold memories

With ominous clouds gathering overhead

And the soles of my feet dully aching

I broke down in a dilapidated alleyway

Purple neon lights buzz and flicker

And flies hover just above the swill

My knees dig into the pavement

And I scruple with my every thought

‘You’re weak’ an apparition bellows

‘I know’ Is all that sputters out of my hoarse throat

Each day is filled with deluged thoughts

And I yearn for I know not what

I walk through each day with frightening indifference

Slapping myself left and right

Longing for my feelings to dissolve

Yet they flood back in like a raging torrent

Ignorant to my fervent pleading

I saw two things in the ink blots

A magnificent scene of death

And the other of glory’s perseverance

I know it's not possible

To live up to my own Sisyphean standards

Never sure of where to find the answers

To the impossible questions posed

The sky above the clouds must be so beautiful

I don’t want to die in the grey

And yet I will

Brazenly so

The Lark

The lark should not have

Spent morning in frosty trees

As winter began.

Why did the lark fall

From the frosty trees that morn?

The frost had bit him.

Krauter plum petals

Bloom in place of the lark’s home.

It is spring once more.

Silk Worm

Biting into fruit

And spitting out worms

Skin of silk

But rotten to the core

Sheets of ice

That cave underfoot

Eyes like diamonds

But trapped in the mines

Such a soothing voice

Like Sirens lying in wake

A deadly mushroom for a lost, hungry soul

Your spores cling to my lungs

About the Author

Solomon Fraga

Solomon Fraga is an aspiring author, speedcuber, and high school student living alone and studying abroad, working on learning about what life has to offer. His passion for learning, poetry, languages, connecting with, and observing others has led him down the path of writing. He currently has no published works; however, he has posted many of his fiction and parody works on Archive Of Our Own under the pseudonyms of Magnus Kafka and CubingB.

Read more work by Solomon Fraga.