Archive
07/14/11
Dom Malchiodi
The severely contradictory and incompatible elements Holding sway in Dom Malchiodi's degrading, deranged psyche, Which was fading, by the gray, barbaric day, the glazed, vacant gaze, The misfiring synapse blazing from his brain's haphazard wiring, The chaotic cadence of his sorrowing heartbeats Chasing themselves as if each inverted T-wave Were a Uroboros or Little Black Sambo in hot pursuit of a tail, Hoping to catch it, hold on, for dear life's newest weirdness, Both racing in an ever-widening circle of systemically narrowing circles...
The dissociative, radically disordered elements of his mind, One unaccountable and perpetually-forgetting-itself late afternoon, Rose up, in protest — a sustained refusal to obey his will — Displaying total disrespect for his unraveling authority, reason, law, Rendering him a creature of blatant ineptitude, incompetence, Predisposed to disorganized speech, emotional blunting, Delusions, social isolation, hallucinations, voices, voices, voices... Elements in malfunctioning Dom Malchiodi's wholly psychotic realm, Making him less and less able to maintain the sanctity of his sanity.
Then, for a brief season, he seemed to regain control over his self-control, Return to the pristine shape he'd boasted in his night-errant youth, When, imbued with, suffused with, his beloved libros de caballería, He rode off, in search of maidens in distress, to rescue from dragons, No matter that those monsters were windmills or borachos, pícaros, The bella damas mere guttersnipes, wenches, common prostitutes... Rode off, on his trusty steed, Rocinante, with his confidant, Sancho Panza, Calling himself neither Dom Malchiodi nor Alonso Quijano But Don Quixote, El Mesías de la Mancha, Hijo de las Obras de Dios,
Sent down, from the clouds, by his heavenly Father, to purify humanity, Suffer for its sins of deceit, greed, idolatry, hypocrisy, heresy, Indeed all the malfeasances, malevolences, and racial impurities Not even Satan, at his most maladjusted, conceived for Adam and Eve. But then it was, after Dom Malchiodi's fourth and final sally forth, That the devil — the Prince of Lies, Lucifer — in the Savior's guise, Materialized, full-blown, beyond all belief, faith, as Dementia Praecox, Possessing the Dom, who, on his deathbed, expelling a telling breath, Confessed he'd always regretted not being born Adolf Hitler, instead.
07/14/11
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