Your such a special human,
Your going make someone very lucky…
Hoisted by my on petard,
I come with empty hands and offer nothing in return.
Used up, run down;
An empty house
With it’s best years trailing in the rear view mirror.
Darkness longs for warmth from time to time,
But like Icarus the fall comes for those who glide to close to the light.
What never came to be,
Now feeds my muse;
She revels in my discomfort,
Wallowing in my pain
Always keeping the ink in my pen full.
If you have a lick of wisdom,
You have never looked back
And your working to avoid me,
I always end up planting the seeds for my own destruction.
Were it possible
I would grab that useless weak soft underbelly I carry,
The part that squeals and barks
As it fights with logic and reason
Until it’s beaten back
Left to whimper in the corner.
My hands would clasp tight around its throat
I would hold its eye
As I crushed out the life within.
Instead when presented again
The same old story
Once again it will crawl from its dark corner
Slither up the back again
Triumphantly place on its saddle once more.
Let the gibberish flow,
Line after useless line;
Like bad gas,
Its better out than in.
Holler into the darkness,
Beat your chest at the driving rain;
Nothing changes
Empty words
From an empty head.
Like the neglected garden
Left to grow wild,
No longer kept up
It slowly returns to its baser state;
Where the weeds now choke the flowers
The once pleasant aroma was traded with the sour bile
That comes up from the stomach
Fills both the nose and throat with its acid and copper tinge.
You bite back the vomit,
Keep it in and burn yourself
Or release it and put flame any that grace your path.
Eat the lesser evil,
Least the wound is only self-inflected,
A private seppuku
Where you can use your own organs
To tell you the future.
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