Stultification

A poem about life and death.

A sailor lost at sea, he sits on the pitch black nothing.
The air, sharp and cold, cuts the soul like a father cuts his children.
Ruthless, merciful, nothing.

The wind breathes new life into what's been dead all along.
The tragedy of movement chokes the frozen heart.

The words we speak are on a leash.
Mighty the flow, shamed and weak they crawl back.

We died a long, long time ago.
We wait for sweet oblivion.
Clutching, grabbing, like a crazed beast,
we fight for what has been in our reach the whole time.
Blind and deaf, thinking stupid, what we need is what they say.

We embrace the darkness, scared of ourselves.
Sex, death.
Sex is death.
The black tar running through our veins poisons our children.

Wicked, perverted, twisted beasts we are.
We drown in the light of our darkness.

They teach us how to die.
Mother.
Father.
We drop dead and continue pacing.
Walking towards disgusting desires.
We don't want you.
We want to be free.

Run.
Run through the glass,
let your feet stroke the grass.
Grass of home, we praise you.

We are bored of living.
Life drains our life.
One step forth, two steps back.
Two steps forth, five steps back.

I want to die.
Do you want to die?
I want to die!
Walk through the door.
One too many.

Poisonous gas we breathe, and we love it.
We hate it.

They call upon their Putrid King,
he knights them with his rotten sword.
Vomit and s**t lie beyond the wall.

We are shaking.
We are finished.
We are still.