Monologue - Part I
Sickness will be your only companion on this journey.
You'll starve under empty skies
As famished rats excoriate what's left
Of your fragile vessel.
Grief will outweigh the steel shovel you'll use
To bury your mother.
A carmine mixture of tear and blood will defile the soil under which she rests.
"Quick", I'll warn you before dawn, "Cover the wounds across your arms
Before her soul steals a final glimspe of us
As it soars above our beings."
You will carve the entirety of Psalms
Upon your ragged skin
With a knife
As the devil recites them for you in a public bathroom.
Sorrow will summon its reckless henchmen to stitch your longitudal rupture.
Worms will make a viable nest from the corpse of your only offspring.
Suicide will be your God, and to him will you crawl with a blindfold over your eyes.
You will lick the steam off of your singular window to satiate your thirst.
Be wary of the irregular cracks upon its surface,
For we can no longer heal from our cuts and contusions.
Your beloved will leave you for a less suicidal poet.
As you cry for salvation, the leaves around you
Will still themselves and listen.
No one else will.
Strange souls in black will pray for you as you convulse by the city burials.
Oh, and our muse?
She is being taken to the gallows as we speak,
Dragging a colossal crucifix across a barren town,
Messiah of a lost God behind her with a hammer
And four rusted nails.
Winds will soon halt their movements across the tides of reason.
Masked men in gray suits
Will eviscerate you as you beg for a modicum of clemency
And shove your remains into a polished briefcase.
You will die and you will not,
But you will surely rot.
In solitude will you find peace.
In solitude will you find us.
In solitude will you find chaos.
In solitude will you kiss the hands of death.
As you wave both hands around you,
The flies will not disperse.
They will linger and wait for you
To fall.
You will spend a handful of sleepless nights on a cheap motel bed
With a cold revolver shoved in your mouth
The six chambers all loaded save for one
Either me, or you,
Have to pull the trigger.
May we rest in peace thereafter.
(Feedbacks are welcome, please do tell me what you think)
Sickness will be your only companion on this journey.
You'll starve under empty skies
As famished rats excoriate what's left
Of your fragile vessel.
Grief will outweigh the steel shovel you'll use
To bury your mother.
A carmine mixture of tear and blood will defile the soil under which she rests.
"Quick", I'll warn you before dawn, "Cover the wounds across your arms
Before her soul steals a final glimspe of us
As it soars above our beings."
You will carve the entirety of Psalms
Upon your ragged skin
With a knife
As the devil recites them for you in a public bathroom.
Sorrow will summon its reckless henchmen to stitch your longitudal rupture.
Worms will make a viable nest from the corpse of your only offspring.
Suicide will be your God, and to him will you crawl with a blindfold over your eyes.
You will lick the steam off of your singular window to satiate your thirst.
Be wary of the irregular cracks upon its surface,
For we can no longer heal from our cuts and contusions.
Your beloved will leave you for a less suicidal poet.
As you cry for salvation, the leaves around you
Will still themselves and listen.
No one else will.
Strange souls in black will pray for you as you convulse by the city burials.
Oh, and our muse?
She is being taken to the gallows as we speak,
Dragging a colossal crucifix across a barren town,
Messiah of a lost God behind her with a hammer
And four rusted nails.
Winds will soon halt their movements across the tides of reason.
Masked men in gray suits
Will eviscerate you as you beg for a modicum of clemency
And shove your remains into a polished briefcase.
You will die and you will not,
But you will surely rot.
In solitude will you find peace.
In solitude will you find us.
In solitude will you find chaos.
In solitude will you kiss the hands of death.
As you wave both hands around you,
The flies will not disperse.
They will linger and wait for you
To fall.
You will spend a handful of sleepless nights on a cheap motel bed
With a cold revolver shoved in your mouth
The six chambers all loaded save for one
Either me, or you,
Have to pull the trigger.
May we rest in peace thereafter.
(Feedbacks are welcome, please do tell me what you think)
