A Reason

Sister poem of "A Fantasy", this is significantly longer, angrier, and serious compared to its counterpart. If you're into that, enjoy. If not, try my poem "A Fantasy"

Next time I won’t be so delicate, when you want to play rough

Worship the pain

I hate you for a reason, remember?

Your hearts as cold and dismembered as the fallen rotten leaves of a bottomless holocaust dream of grieving December

Next time you shoot at me, I will bleed maternally until you burn to be nothing but the flicker of a lit wicker, dim under the midnight trim of the wings of darkness

Next time I won’t cry, when I’m realigned

Embarking into the spark spotless, stark among the white lights of digital blight, formidable inevitable treble blends through the sentimental cemetery of renegades, bathe and wade in the barrage of bullets and blades, until the shade kills the sun, and the lights go out for every angry gun

I hate you for a reason, remember?

Glittery pitter-patter of the rain of the fallen shadows, drowning collateral batter remains, in the sprawling walls of maroon saturated waking of shattered teaspoons of blood splatters, daggers of madness tattered immune to foolery, mutilate me until the sheets drip and weep with the fleeting emptiness of a leaf at the bottom of a pond, done, drowned, raw, the lights are out for everyone, but every angry gun has peppered me like a zeppelin, stepped on stickers as the sicknesses visions beckons and bickers with the passing seconds I reckon it’s over, this lonely silence is the only islands these eyes could ever recognize or know, where the clovers grow sober to the world over, all hopeless, and every angry gun has buried my body sodomized into a serial killer, so real that it’s become unbecoming of me

Next time I won’t be left for dead

I will not die a something of Satan, I will die in the nothing, baptized over the obituary substance, the suffering, the hatred, the burial of a merry go round, I was made from, an unloaded gun, I will rise from the earth and spit dirt grave currents, so you can reload your explosions unload and blow me open full of holes, broken under my unforgiveness, emotion corroding my mind, hopeless, motionless

I hate you for a reason, remember?

Let my spittle cry me a little river of livid ludicrous isolation, dine on me in your hatred, my blood cheap beer, my heart dark coal burning warm feelings unbreathing, my space remains vacant, my hollow body under the ceiling houses these shores, but when you killed my people, I realized in my wholesome ignorant evil, under the jails veil, beneath all the flaws of lawlessness, I guess I never remembered a grieving December to believe in, in my shacked freedom of faded reason, I never had a real home, I never had what I wanted, needed, I was alone long before I was an egg, semen, loneliness my sanity, tragedy my sanctuary, ominous amidst the madness, let them carry on misshapen humanity in a grave of plastic vanity and bury the past with my casket, next time I won’t be loving, impudent with empty empathy for the monsters menacing menstruated ruptured under the eruption beneath the rough

I won’t be lost like a diamond in the dirt discharge marriage of shots in bar barrage cherish you in hurt, unstoppable, cooperation with your fate an opera operation for every angry gun

Worship the pain like a dried bloodstain, star of the Sabbath, ravaged

I hate you for a reason remember?

I don’t hide behind liars hatred, I do not create the truth, God isn’t listening to you

I hate you for a reason, remember? Let me sever your heavenly connection of flawless imperfections like you scrambled the ensemble my head

Next time I won’t be so accepting

I am a remnant of the past, through death, I will not hide behind the line of homicides, remind you, set the regret timing the divines loose, tie your own noose cruising through the air to carry the angel to take off on the chair impaired unaware that hanging between the ceiling rope is hopeful, it dangles freedom, as you hover out of reach deceit grief retreat

I hate you for a reason, remember?

You’re alright, the firing guns are in love within you, the blood runs through disaster after noon, I wear my tears, beliefs on my sleeves and briefs, I’m bulletproof, beneath the asylums hue, I’m a cultivated homo sapien refusing to be broken open, invincible soul, all over for the soldier of order, looming over the blooming clover, border the chaos, murder the matrix, I breathe nature, vomit prayers in amusement, I couldn’t care if I die prideful, solve the Rubix, finish the puzzle, I won’t lose in the rubble to every angry gun

Destruction and crucifixion the cruelty hasn’t ruined me, every gunshot rots monotony, fuels me, a gospel among the hostility, the musical constriction of mutilation, concentrated in every breath, every step, every ultisep, I’ve taken, making my own torture into a cultivation, of contempt and complication

Next time I won’t be so fair

Capture your own rapture, baptize your own eyes, Valhalla is malleable

This gospel of sonar consumes the abuse, my doom will not be your amusement

I choose my refuse, conclude my novella in my own hell, a rebel in limbo’s bottomless pit

Purgatory tells it’s own story, Abbadon will not abandon me, the blood will run in perdition

I have my own ambitions to witness, conditioned by suffering, christened by nothing but my spite

Enlightened from sympathy, glistening in impudence, beckoning in my imperfection, reflected reckless hatching madness from my soul, universal cold, Sheol will hold me, may the hoard be lonely, comatose upon the silver moon, soothes my adversary, solitary

Craters on your saviour, God's favourite, everlast your facets and look past the aftermath

I worshiped the pain

You hate me for a reason, remember?

 

Next time I won’t trust the confines of your lies, crying fire, realize the hot iron defiling melding wielding smelting weapons for the Nephilim

Next time, I’ll be gone

Next time your time will come, like every angry gun

Next time god will know just what you are

For I hate you for a reason, remember?

I know what you’ve done

The blood runs where it's begun, caked crusted like a scythe, it can't be undone, blooming hatred in the sunlight, warriors rite, suffocating, fermenting on my sentimental memories

What have you done to me?

God hates you for a reason, remember?

God remembers our obscenities, deserts us warriors, deplorably horrible, worthlessly purposeless

 

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.