Beguiled

I await the day that I no longer suffer. I hope, implore, and plead; cry out for the discharge of this bondage of adoration. I fancy it no more, but tis my compassion I must contradict. My sleep is shadows, my thoughts weighty and laden.

Let me grasp the stillness of perpetuity so these eyes may quiet and never subsist. I, bemused in a world I never sought to dwell. I yearn to flee from what truth has befallen me. Offer me mortality, ye lord, bestow upon me the sting of death, that I may suffer no more. Take away this wretched, destructive element that hammers in my bosom, to identify what it is to be a man. It is of no use to me anymore. Woman, blighted for her beguiled ignorance. Permit me to everlasting slumber and receive all that I am.

Let the buzzards come, circle its death, and devour all that once was. Let flesh be torn. Let the sun’s heat fill the earth with its stench, to speak aloud to those who follow this path of suffering.

The day is austere, the wind is silent. All that breathes is distant. The sound is only that of my heart beating slowly and steady, and the roar in my bowels ever proclaiming its victory of defeat against the hopes of my desires. It tears, it bleeds. I cannot silence the pain. It comes without warning and has its way. I try to smile; a façade. But I cannot cry. The tears do not fall.

Reviews

[Forest Green]

Stark surroundings, a sense of hopelessness pervades and the lack of tears...at some point they do seem to run dry.

I find your poem like desert landscape, windswept and almost friendless.

Powerful writing...

[Rusty]

This is the first peice of yours I read. Elegant. Lovely. Pure.

[Kyle]

Seriously intense.