Caravaggio and me hanging in the back,
Me and Caravaggio hanging way back.
We sing, we dance, we know no better
Then the blessed rest, for the great sacrifice
Of the fleshed man.
Still, when I awaken in a cold sweat,
And sing my foolish song;
Horror, Horror, Horror
To the man of that day.
Caravaggio and me hanging in the back,
Me and Caravaggio hanging way back.
The word has come and gone, but man
Remains the same; too fleshy, and
This song did not say what I wanted.
The tomb remains empty and
The heart is hollow. This blood,
Tainted plasma from out the primordial slime.
To stand by is to die, but action is a kind
Of death.
This hollow scream
Becomes our prize. These words
Manifest nothing. And by that,
We fall again. Once more into
Disobedience.
Caravaggio and me hanging in the back,
Me and Caravaggio hanging way back.
Water and vinegar, forever mixing.
Stirring from within a burning heart.
I offer up only my resolve, to this continual
Turning. By the rivers of Jordan,
I am washed away from all.
Leonidas Alexandris is a Greek American who grew up in Andover, Massachusetts. He is a senior at the College Of the Holy Cross, pursuing a double major in English and Political Science. He is a relatively new writer and has not been published in anything yet.
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