Facing the Grave

Sliding down the pole,
Scraping burned skin on the ground.
Descending past the gaping hole.
Screaming lungs pop with no sound.
Passing the time, it slips away.
Veins bursting, the poison spreads.
Tired tongues with little to say,
Broken glass with rocks make my bed.
My mother, the worm.
My father, the fire.
My home, the pit.
My light, the darkness.
Tumbling away like a stone.

Caressing my lips on the flame,
It dances before me like a-
whore with no shame.
Empty as aborted wombs,
Untouchable as lepers-
Dark as a tomb.
I have not, I taste not, I see not, I feel not, for I am not.
Blurred remnants of better days,
Memories all but ashes now.
Grotesque misgivings of another empty phase.
Contemplating, reasoning, cognitively wondering why?
Forgotten, thrown away like trash.
Ripped from the wall like an old picture.

The beast awakens,
Shining bright like a Morningstar.
Glistening like a bloodied sword.
Consuming what’s left, controlling the rest.
Burning, kindling with vengeance.
Lit by the hope of killing the best.
I am born, I will rise, I will win, I will settle the score.
Life is nothing but machines,
Well oiled systems set to run.
Covered, stained, not at all clean.
Hidden, not at all seen.
Elixirs of toxic emotion breed within,
Saddened, darkened, consciousness begins to spin.
Eternity, they say will never end.