Man, So Slender

Man, So Slender

A Poem by Brenden Bow

I'm not going to claim a point behind this one. I wrote, and this is what came to be.


Fun fact: You, add one me and all others, by lust �" roughly meaning, lust times everyone, which is added to the sum of you plus me �",
is a number pinned to palette-demon Legion, an, at best (and worst) enigma-entity, an off-on frenemy.
Yes, that ‘is’ us, the �" our �" equation’s product. I know, I know, right, what luck?

He, the demon, being, you know, the plate in which paint is mixed each session (as frequently, as are we), 

leads me to the seemingly-obligatory question on our paternity.
Fearing the truth of our supposed-maternity is, however, wholly unnecessary. 

To me, from you, a word of thanks should go (and greatly). Why? �" Uh, for solving that minute sliver of mystery, maybe?

Henceforth, without mine eyes to flee, lie again, and, of course, send your spirit to sin (yet again),
I, hereby, including this moment, and onwards,
decree you shan’t further breathe without a shard of honor.

That’s how it is, at least, that’s how I say, and that’s how you’ll be,
while laboring under the mere memory of . . . well, me.
Fret not, want not; this world is ours. Like felines on a string, on this opportunity, we pounce.

Seeing the peasants, the lords cower, I, and the dragon, seethe �" pound by pound, and ounce by ounce.

We boil, not in fury but anxiety, because we cannot wait further…
…to see that unfaithful wench’s murder.

Now that I think it over, see it from my to her, shoulders,

I see, in essence, her father was, with not trusting her, me, right,
she’s dumber than twinkling bloodsuckers while wrapped in Sun’s light.

Earth may fall to a singularity’s pull, but you, my dear, are my cull in…

…The darkness, it’s so spooky, so scary.
The man, so slender, walks without countenance.
He haunts my dreams’ incense.

© 2012 Brenden Bow

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Added on September 26, 2012
Last Updated on September 26, 2012
Tags: Slender, man, murder, Sun, boil, paternity, maternity, mystery, love, hate


Brenden Bow
Brenden Bow


I've been writing for nine years. It's a solitary art, writing; seclusion works wonders for one's evolution as a writer. I enjoy secluding myself for days, sometimes weeks, with my work. more..