Black Mold

Locked in a cockfight of metaphysical drowning
The spaceman’s ennui has one empty the Browning

Forty caliber into the spouse and into the head
The universe is indifferent because they are dead

Self-centered and demented, self-loathing and shallow
Like combustibles mixed by a mind green and callow

A chlorine tab and brake fluid, these are the spouses
They just gripe and fight themselves into new houses

But that won’t occur since death is less expensive
The darker side of the coupling is less apprehensive

Driven to that point by a complex so inferior
And a better half that thought itself superior

Unhinged in the mind, no North Star guiding
Deterioration up there, a broken plane flying

Happy thoughts of warmth have turned really cold
The essence of that being has turned to black mold

The downward spiral, a spin into erratic nihilism
Irrationality gained, just insanity inside solipsism

A medical course taken, the side effect is cirrhosis
It matters not because the black mold causes necrosis

Black mold of the soul leads toward carbon decay
It’s simple determinism, there is no going astray

And like the spaceman circling the Earth at crazy speed
The onlookers below go about working, trying to breed

Feeling helpless, the agent decides on the proper course
Help is an illusion, the actions are completely forced

The pistol in hand, the spaceman’s words echoing on
And now two broken souls flicker out, forever gone

Reviews

[ButterflyWonderland]

"Help is an illusion, the actions are completely forced."

Great line. Amazing piece of poetry.