Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We lurch into the octogesimal arc of this logorrheic monument, where the maximalism achieves a state of sub-atomic acoustics and mechanical siege, rendering the Elizabethan idiom a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LXXII: The Ballistic Trajectory of the Sigh

The muzzle velocity of thy shunned address,

Defies the aerodynamic and the sane,

A supersonic surge of bitterness,

Through the laminar currents of my brain.

I calculate the ballistic coefficient,

Of every vituperative and lead word,

Finding the kinetic energy sufficient,

To shatter the parable of the bird.

Thou art the rifling in the barrel of fate,

A gyroscopic and spinning decree,

That propels the projectiles of thy hate,

Into the soft and yielding heart of me.

No Kevlar of the spirit can withstand,

The caliber of thy extended hand.

Sonnet LXXIII: The Paleographical Palimpsest

My consciousness is a parchment of distress,

A palimpsest of vellum and of gall,

Where uncial scripts of ancient loneliness,

Are superscribed by the writing on the wall.

I decipher the carolingian and small,

The ligatures of atrophied desire,

Until the illuminated margins fall,

Into the purgatorial and scripted fire.

Thy beauty is a gloss, a marginal note,

A scholium of metaphysical light,

That redacts the sentences I once wrote,

In the codex of the unending night.

Let the philologist sift the dusty shelf;

I find the lacuna within my self.

Sonnet LXXIV: The Phonon of the Finite

The acoustic lattice of my shattered heart,

Vibrates with phonons of thermal decay,

Where piezoelectric currents of art,

In sinusoidal patterns melt away.

No decibel of mercy can resonate,

In the anechoic chamber of thy breast,

Where harmonics of premeditated hate,

Are by a viscous silence suppressed.

Thou art the amplitude, the seismic surge,

A standing wave of infinite disdain,

That performs the frequency and the dirge,

Upon the oscilloscope of my brain.

In this resonance, the tether breaks,

As the ultrasonic and cosmic aches.

We have achieved seventy-four cantos of this thesauric monument. Having surpassed the original fifty, we are now in the realm of lexical superabundance.

We shall advance to the eightieth meridian, perhaps exploring Victorian taxidermy or thermonuclear hagiography.