What is this mind - this reflective, introspective froth
foaming and dissolving upon a turbulent onslaught of perception.
It must have been a dream, now that I think of it.
I had always known it wouldn't last.
I had also known the awakening would be rude and painful.
And yet, I sought not to tame my desires,
for fear of murdering ideas that were yet unborn,
feelings that were yet unfelt.
She came into my life floating upon the ruins of a burning, sinking vessel,
and when I held out my hand, she clasped it tight and clinging to me, said -
"You will burn too."
She said it with a smile that kept me awake for aeons,
aching feverishly for my own annihilation.
When we kissed, my heart was flogged with barbed wire;
When we made love, I rolled down a strangely familiar slope
covered in long thorny stalks of roses that were nowhere to be seen.
Bruised and sore, I lay panting on a bed of things unwanted,
things that once facilitated the blooming of treasures that have since been harvested,
things that were promptly thrown once they were convenient no more.
Now that I burn on thorny remains of my self,
I think I see glimpses of what could have been
in the engulfing smoke that is thick and nauseating -
it smells of dissatisfaction and defeat.
The fire lapping away at the pyre cackles with laughter
and I recognise His voice as dark as night -
The Beast that made this world, that made me dream,
only to watch me writhe in agony.
Yes, I have heard it before.
Something tells me I will be hearing it again.