The Sunny and The Wretched

i am very very tired and delusional as i write this -- i hope it will warrant your forgiveness on account of the following monstrosity, but i shall post it anyway, for it's unyielding, blunt honesty.

I will give you the best thing of myself,

I will give you one more thing to cry for.

For the yelling last instance, I have loved you

Both in love, and out of it; for the thunder whistling broach

You have never been more horrendous than when

Your grey-stone heart became cement crack smiling to me

God of Gas, God of Fire, I will say good bye 

In the harshest instance, and I will mean the gasoline

Leaking down my cheeks with a sincerity no other

Could give his subjects, an earnest flea of truth

(I will give you the most I can give;

My riches, my slaves, my body. 

I will give you something to be sorry for;

My riches, my slaves, my body.)

In the poverty of reminiscence, the childhood's Grim Reaper

Nestles, broken beaked, onto the crease your cold, flat head

Has rolled away from, a beggar with a knowledge of place

But no means on evacuation

The mass-destruction on degradation, slaves to death

On it's scabbed hands and knees, wanting to ensure survival,

Even death wants to live

Every end wants to begin, and do it wise the first time.

Aren't clock-hands the saddest things?

Counting down for us, one second less

Making the noise of loss, slapping thighs

As a means of making love, they'll be damned

For a treacherous transgression of the past,

Some frivolous feud with Hell, that sticks them,

Limb to limb, against the walls of Fire and pit drenched

Regions of burning ash and corpse and gold

Things will never be sadder than they are

When someone with smaller years has wider

Thresholds of life, of talent, of genius,

Goading love and brilliance and war, survival, strength.

I have been the saddest I can be, into the breadth of

The dark monstrous forage for life, the transplant ineffective,

I have been a tumultuous diagnosis, I have brought shame

And they, pity, in the place of empathy, health, guilt.

I have been the last commandment. Once more,

Onto the sea. Once more, one more time to cry

Sad state. Render the fence inaccessible. Controversy implies

We are futile to the world anyway.

We are flesh, at the disposal of God.

Gas, at the gait of science.

And everything in-between, of worth, has been deemed

By some unknowable, forsaken entity that we cannot combat.

Our physical life, our walk, our throat,

Our breath, our talk, our eat, our play--

It has been a means to be the worth, to fight the system

Into the stomached hands, fist-opened game of Us.

In circumstance, we have been played.

We have been the last thrill of dilation, our pulses

A rhythmic asthma to pound to. We have been the last laugh

Of significance. Our loves, our lives

They will die with us.

Into the Ash, once more.

Author's Note

i am very very tired and delusional as i write this -- i hope it will warrant your forgiveness on account of the following monstrosity, but i shall post it anyway, for it's unyielding, blunt honesty.