Tragedy

Nothing personal...

Trying to understand...before I decide...how I may die today.

 

May leave once and for all, haven't made up my mind...

 

What...what is this hollow feeling in my chest?

 

The more I look forward, the more lies I seem to uncover...I gaze back and see decaying memories...if only I could rest here a bit.

 

  …I’ve struggled long in thought and heart as something continued to turn uneasily within me, burning a fresh coal within my failing pulse. How I wished for this to not occur again, not like this, but it seemed inevitable…I guess I would be considered weak by quite a few, though I would admit it has left me often disabled. Even now as I continue, the feeling of bitter sweet lashes my entire being. My mouth soon rain dry as you witnessed, it was not from indifference, nor the loss of connection; the opposite could be easily said. Could one survive as he slowly fills with the fire of the morning phoenix, and drowns in the waters of Nereids’? What was it that you once asked of me, back then…when I would have considered myself strong in mind and will; though I laugh now at myself as it should be, for it was merely a lie I had grown so fond of. I learned from those mistakes I can gladly say, but soon was distracted by irrational thought, remembering one’s past can serve as one’s destruction and salvation. Now I ponder that which I could not find an answer to alone, but need the one whom holds the light in a gentle palm. I would soon enough pull upon my own heart and clasp my fists tight, but strange as it may seem the weakness that engulfs me, within me something stirred that I knew not I could contain. I still lack understanding when it comes to this matter and will continue to shun that which cannot grab hold of me and bring me to reality, though reality is what we make it there still lies another reality that is molded by relations.

I have talked too much on this matter as it is, but this is one of a few many things that continue to rush through my mind, and I must confess it is a dominating thought. I must part ways not to the people whom have grown to need me, but to the ways I have fallen victim to.

I have fallen to my knees and stared so deeply into the abyss that started to tear before me,

Blink my eyes dared not,

It was not darkness nor light that I gazed at, before me nay it was beyond that,

Extend a hand into the new world,

I grasp at nothing as many do before me, but spirit undeterred by the prospect,

Retreat my bleeding hand,

What do I see before me now but something you showed me in passing,

To suck the blood that marks the cut,

Eyes always fixed upon that before me a world so different and yet the same,

There still lay cracks upon this mirror,

I watch the eyes that stare to sorrowfully at me and how they hide behind the cracks,

They are not my eyes,

Would I force myself into the slices of broken glass and reflecting silver?

I ponder this still,

Could the one who lies beyond the tattered breaking be the one that must,

Extend fates hand to me,

I must write my name among those who know they shall die a death not meant for kindness,

Bleeding now unto a contract,

Stop me I would plead if not I knew what I’ve known for too long,

Grant me one thing,

Reach through the bridge that leaves the galaxies tearing us as the moon and sun,

Freedom not meant for me,

With only the cracks growing I feel the distance like a winter’s night absent of flame,

Frozen warmth,

If trust be something written into fates care dare I surrender to its will and wants,

Blood for blood,

Fate wears a ring jeweled with misfortune, chaos, and sweet memory,

I kneel upon knee,

Crystal lives fall and shattered and lies burn whole into reality,

Rituals written,

I can shed no more tears nor shall I do so upon this world only my blood,

Take me,

Use this lineage to write history once more but not for the victor for the unspoken,

Bond,

Which ties all men and women together in the evolution of its kind,

Merry this fool,

As are all those who listened to only the victor for so long and his defaming lies,

For the love,

Of country, family, religion and numerous other reasons wars will wage,

To propose in hope,

That one day no matter the time it may take nor the effort,

It shall be accepted,

A peace among all or the least an understanding between men,

If not despair may follow,

The ending course of all great things may take my blood and my will,

If death be not kind.

 

Taking the next steps...the wait is over...time to act.

 

What to do when you find out the truth, and it was what you expected?

 

What do you expect from me? want from me?

I ask these sincerely.

 

 

I fucked up that bad didn’t I? Rhetorical question, I’m not even going to make an excuse, there is no point to it.

I don’t want to start over, nor do I feel like answering those questions I presented, at least not at the moment. I may already know the answer but the fact of the matter remains that I can’t deal with this sort of game, I call it a game because the further we go into any subject I feel it becomes a bit trivial toward any cause we may be trying to accomplish. Even now when I listen to the logic that at one point I thought of as correct, it seems to just mesh into a big circle, leading nowhere. It came to my realization that the reality of the matter remained that a paradoxical view to anything seemed the safest place to stand, but as I continued to stand upon that ledge everyone began to see me as two faced, but the thing is the world is two faced. What you may expect to happen could greatly differ from what will transpire. Even when you look into a physical thing that your perception may interoperate it into a translation of the mind, it can never be considered a true reality because perceptions are in reliable. Then came the statement that only nothing is true, which within itself left the statement a two faced reality of its self. Pretty soon it all runs down to the same conclusion that I would leave out because of how pointless it had become by that point to even consider carrying on any form of conversation.

For now I’ll continue on with my punishment. Or like kuon called it “rehab”, though there isn’t anything really to rehabilitate. I just did something wrong, and I regret it, and I’m going to learn from it.

At times I want to see the road fill with blood,

Let the corruption and sin taint the establishment,

Fire consume that which cause so much pain,

Unleash a war of recreation…

I feel the anger swell up within me,

Clenching my fist so tight that I would draw blood upon my palm,

But then I see the suffering and the weak,

I cannot end their misery.

I have yet to earn my scythe and robe,

It lies beyond me to stare the lifeless eyes,

When for so long I nurtured the notions of love,

Bringing peace without raising my sword.

I was disgusted with my inability to act,

Soon I took to learn my death,

In doing so I learn my life,

I shall die by the sword if I chose to live by it.

Courage and honor never strangers to me,

Nor allies nor friends were we.

I ponder now if I shall rise to action,

And know the answer remains the same.

I shall die because I want live,

No more shell no more shadows,

I make myself with the symbols of war soon,

Blade in hand I am ready for ever more.

Though I shall fight beside no brother,

I will fight to reclaim that which is lost,

Alone or among friends,

I hope to die the way blood dictates.

War is soon I hear the whispers well,

Armor and armed I am prepared,

Though I lack that which is most important,

I stand upon no side not even in the middle.

 

Questions and revealations

 

I'll stand tall as I'm put through
All these mistakes look down on you
When no one seems to know
The mind betrays, falling into my own
I can't live with this, now I'm all alone

Fear and sorrow ripping me apart, as it brings me down

I'll resist these attacks, as nothing holds me back
A glance, a kiss, your knife, my wrist, cherish this for now

Now I'm alone

Your problems create problems, and your answers are my problems,
living unseen, with a voice only I can hear.

The world moves in awkward strides, slowly falling to its doom a graveyard suiting for the corruption it harbors.

 

 Ironic almost it seems that hell is the one thing that yielded life, shining nay below ground but further above our sulking heads.

 

The son is a metaphor, the reconstruction of our ticking death, both shining and burning with the disillusion of safety among the burning lies.

 

We will dye in a hellfire, screaming songs of praise to the mighty zombie savior, a man hung and dried like the beef we devour with drooling greed. There is no truth, just accepted lies that most accept…the majority will kill us like they have for centuries, I know this as much as you.

Blood means nothing anymore; light and darkness aren’t opposite’s just parts of the same thing, like evil and good.

 

I want the enigma to end, but no matter how many rivers I taint with blood, nor limbs of children I feed to their very parents shall never end it all, call me insane, I’ll scream it louder each time, losing the color in my eyes with every dirt filled word.

 

I listen to the rotting whispers of death, for so long they’ve been my melody, a perverse lullaby.

 

As I rest upon grim’s bosom, boney ribs a strange comfort for the wondering gypsy, no permanent home, nor friends, nor foes, just memories you see through the blood dried looking glass.

 

What were those memories?

 

Black rituals that call upon the angels of heaven, may they serve to slaughter my sleep, rape my children and poison my faithful b***h. Oh I hear the church bells ringing, loud and clear, they call, they beacon, come…come…tis the last supper, may we dine heart fully upon your sinful souls.

 

What would they call me?

 

As I sit Idly bye, watching the blood fall from the sky, A dreamer once said I, but nay tis not dreams that fill my eye, long drawn out frights, striking thunder within the blinding lights, fight all you might, the demon will come for me tonight, I will watch in utter glee, as I bleed and plea, skin stripped to serve your tea, may you tip this waiter a handsome fee. Such splendid aroma within this cup, now if only it didn’t look like old ketchup.

GOD: The creation of a sick fantasy. Inhabitant of senile and impotent brains. Companion and comforter of rancid spirits born to slavery. A pill for constipated minds. Marxism for the faint of heart.

 

HUMANITY: An abstract word with a negative connotation, long on power, short on truth. An obscene mask painted on the mean face of a shrewd vulgarian for the purpose of dominating the multitude of sentimentalist idiots and imbeciles.

 

COUNTRY: Penal servitude for the semi-intelligent, a cowshed of imbecility. A Circe who transforms her adoring fans into dogs and pigs. A prostitute for the master, a pimp of the foreigner. Child-eater, parent-slanderer and scoffer at heroes.

 

FAMILY: The denial of love, life and liberty.

 

SOCIALISM: Discipline, discipline; obedience, obedience; slavery and ignorance, pregnant with authority. A bourgeois body grotesquely fattened by a vulgar christian creature. A medley of fetishism, sectarianism and cowardice.

 

ORGANIZATIONS, LEGISLATIVE BODIES AND UNIONS: Churches for the powerless. Pawnshops for the stingy and weak. Many join to live parasitically off the backs of their card-carrying simpleton colleagues. Some join to become spies. Others, the most sincere, join to end up in jail from where they can observe the mean-spiritedness of all the rest.

 

SOLIDARITY: The macabre altar used by capable comedians of all sort to display their priestly talent for reciting masses. The beneficiaries pay nothing less than 100% humiliation.

 

FRIENDSHIP: Fortunate are those who have drunk from its chalice without having their souls offended or poisoned. If one such person exists, I urge them to send me their photograph. I'm sure to look upon the face of an idiot.

 

LOVE: Deception of the flesh and damage to the spirit. Disease of the soul, atrophy of the brain, weakening of the heart, corruption of the senses, poetic lies from which one gets ferociously inebriated two or three times a day in order to consume this precious but stupid life more quickly. And yet I would prefer to die of love. It's the only swindler, after Judas, that can kill with a kiss.

 

MAN: A filthy paste of servitude, tyranny, fetishism, fear, vanity -and ignorance. The greatest offense one can commit against an a*s is to call it a man.

 

WOMAN: The most brutal of enslaved beasts. The greatest victim shuffling on earth. And, after man, the most responsible for her problems. I'd be curious to know what goes through her mind when I kiss her

You asked me if I feel alone, drifting far beyond by myself now? I’d have to ask you the same question, for the more I actually look at everything the more I start seeing the pointlessness.

 

Every thing I’ve written now is nothing, would it burn and bleed I would never know the difference. If I had known that which dies in such a manner I highly doubt now that I would show much concern.

 

Maybe a passing mood, who knows, besides I but I care not to share that knowledge when it’s an utter waste of energy : ) 

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problems..ahah

Reviews

[nono]

Well that is very long, but you'll be happy to know I read the whole thing and I enjoyed every word of it :D beautiful nice job!