The Darkside of Existence

This is a poem. To be read and experienced. If you can not do both, move on.

Every fiber of my being

Resists the compulsion

The very sinew of my soul

Refuses the growing urge

My cellular structure

Rejects the coercion

The marrow in my bones

Dismisses the duress

 To lift this pretense

In favor of the decay

Exposing the maggots

Feasting on reality

Every nuclei of my make-up

Crushes the perceived duty

The plasma running through me

Dejects the expected longing

My sensory receptors

Suppress the impulse

The tendons of my heart

Revolt against the lust

To strip myself bare

In favor of desolation

Displaying the refuse

Gorging on consciousness

Every synapse in my person

Represses the exigency

The neurosis now controlling me

Denigrates the surging passion

My heteroclite nervous system

Corrupts the true yearning

The mere tissue of my brain

Squelches the impetus 

To proclaim my humanity

In favor of disillusion

Revealing the wickedness

Devouring the entirety 

Reviews

[xXxCynicalWarsxXx]

The forgoing and mass of the anatomy, drenched in a flow so twisted and yet elegant, bitter and proud it seems, I could not get enough of. I read this twice, and glutted on a third, and still thought more and more: Yes. Just that one word. And though, perhaps the meaning, if there is ever one present, I am not too sure of. But I do know, the dynamics and the structure in this majestic ink is splendid. That even if I read it in an Episode of mine (not proud to be Bipolar Type 2) and in my lost sanity, I could still feel it. Tremendous ink dear. A job exceeding words to be done.