CAESAR

the fault
dear Brutus
is not
in our stars
but in ourselves
i don’t think
any haircut
looks good
but
i digress
the scale
of my life
is insulting
like absence
gently touching
your mind
smoke rolling
over the light
that laughter
which is
your own
constant death
those dreamlike
reptilian
clouds
terry cloth
st. tropez
party
at the riviera
the voice
of a chanteuse
crooning
off
in a lounge
change your
desires
not
the world

YIELD PIG

once the gains compound
it’s easy to lose your way

we’re talking
like, stupid cash

i was
utterly blank

too high
to read the memo

yacht rock
cascading above me

i wanted a love
that would ruin me

DIVINE COMEDIES

it was a year of the holy spirit
mostly just pink sheets and Japanese ADRs
what can I say
there were satin ascots
and marble busts
dick flattenings
and auteur vibes
I achieved a kind of sublime tessellation
between me and the light
with drugs as the tiling
at the heart of the matter was staunch method
the pineal reach of my desires
had calcified into stochastic finance
an unbroken chain
Ovid Dante Robert Cox Merton
the blurry hell missions and hotel stationary
supercut in some kind of profligate yin yang
I surrounded myself with finery
masonic daggers and gold leaf crowns
in order to more fully ordain
the gothic aristocracy of the soul
the results were there
one night in Cabo
the ghost moved my hand
I awoke to chainmail bikinis
littered across the floor
pleasure is simple
in its ability to map legible space
I kept a finely thumbed copy of Horace
near the bed
the residue on the cover
telegraphing my annals
nights on the balcony
alone with my thoughts
the vision was starlike

Axel Cash was educated at Middlebury, before attending The Wharton School. From 2008-2021, he managed alternative investments at several hedge funds. He lives in hotels.