Horde Of Hydes

There’s a bit of Hyde in all of us,
Another personality,
A ferocious side with darkened eyes,
An internal antithesis of the good citizen,
We’re capable of both the greatest and foulest of deeds,
Holding your hand one moment,
Chewing it off the next,
Stealing and killing one another,
Maiming and slaughter upon our tongues,
We pretend to be little Jekylls,
But its a lie,

We’re a coin with two sides,
And just like the good old doctor,
It all comes down to illicit chemicals,
Endorphins and uppers,
Dollar notes to the veins,
A warm body to savour,
We become beasts to get what we want,
Ofttimes indistinguishable from evil,
Commit sins for the most miniscule of scraps,
To colour in grey lines,
We become Mr Hydes.

Post-mortem Photography

In that old photograph,
That two-dimensional coffin,
I see a different funerary rite,
Morbidity crossed with sentiment,
It retains a person as they were,
Holding their face from the rot,

The glazed and sad eyes,
The agape jaw,
The hands that’ll never caress again,
The erosion of a life,
Frozen in time,
Held in amber shade for eternity,

In grim contrast does it bring comfort,
Seeing that revenant of a life,
It’s a posed denial of entropy,
That grainy image,
It’s an icon of mourning,
Memento mori.