Recorded Time of Death

It seems the world is not so different
now. These documents confrim
to much the same as what I saw
before. Based only on an actual
event each dawn charred face
I could not recollect. Amnesia politely
introduces me, in every desperate
look where I was found, though it
was hardly my decision.

                                  These are always the last few
minutes before they operate.
A pause cut

                 short where I cannot
convince myself otherwise.

This meeting was the end of all
such pedestals. My craft I sold
to courtesans and Pharisees,
the past and how I made my name
a theme of low monstrosities.

A dull thought struggling
to take its life where time
was equidistant neither
before nor after. A fallen
idol not my own from whom
I took some abject history.