Quicksilver

Grotesque mirror by the bedside,
Tiny rivulets of quicksilver
Streaming down its face.
Infinitesimal in that very scheme
Which drives the striking chord
Within every glowing ember
Of every dying fire.
The resonant dissidence
Rings true from every bell.
But even so, pandemonium breaks loose,
And harmony escapes the jar
On the kitchen counter.
Quicksilver drivel stains my skin;
The drizzle burns my fingertips.
Acidic influx spikes the river;
Makes the stones glow cold
And the spirit fry to oblivion.
The finitude of reality
Can only be measured
By how much we lost.
Finis.