House of Wax

It's not really a poem...really a fragment of an essay I suppose. I found (the first paragraph)it flipping through one of my notebooks. And just added to it so I dont know what you would call this now?

      

.......I had used them for so long that my spirit was dim.  The natural illumination that exists within every man was, for me, so diminished that eventually I had extinguished it entirely.  When, eventually, my spirit was dead, I knew not what to do next.  What does a man do when he is absent his soul?  What then, is the value in life?  What then, is the value in value?

       My greatest lover and companion, my full-time occupation (w/over-time), my temple and faith, my best friend in the world...my everything ; My scornful, derisive ex-lover who means to haunt my waking nightmare with every piercing glance who stalks me even as I sleep.  My over bearing employer of pain and self-imposed suffering who won't let me clock out or go on break and follows me home, my prison cell decorated with white lillies and bloody tissues. Queen of the Gods, jealous of her creation who tempts me to be the progenitor of a new race of anti-men, dwells in the ravaged temple of my body and demands homage.  She/he/it/them/Lord/Queen seeketh no seperation of man from beast and desires solitude for the quiet/loud reflection in prayers prayed only to her...my everything.

     I'd forget you if I could.  I'd severe your hideously glamorous serpentine head from your body and hold it above my people in triumph if I had the one weapon capable of such a feat.  I'd leave you, waiting, at the waters edge, on beaches of sand made from every tear that men, real(?), adult men aren't supposed to cry.  I'd trample your heart into honey bees and rid the world of nectar filled, blossoming flowers while dancing above you in the clouds of arctic nights...my everything.

    If and when I awaken, I'll tell of you, my dream in waking sleep, to children to teach them of real monsters who consume hearts and souls rather than lives...my everything..nothing now.

Author's Note

Phew! I'm not always as dark as I may seem...don't be scared!...Ok I guess I am.

Reviews

[Dizzy-Izzy]

"What is to give light must endure burning."
Viktor E. Frankl

I'm not scared. This is the helicopter, headset wearing, long winded woman. I decided to come out of hiding for a bit.

You ever hear of Viktor Frankl? Oh.... he is one of my most favorite people of all time! The title of your poem/essay reminded me of this quote of his... Life sucks man... but, we learn and then we teach others, we give light... makes almost seem worth it huh?

I don't know if "real men" cry, define "real man" and we can discuss that further. I think people in general are healthier if they can cry, at least a little bit. "E-Motion, feelings that move you"... I know I read that somewhere but, I can't remember now.

Your "scornful ex-lover," is that what I think it is? If so I can say with some certainty, no, absolute certainty that there will come another lover(s) who will be more true and won't cost you your soul in exchange... soapy ehh?

Well I hope you are having a nice Saturday night!

Kristina

[Lady Lazarus.]

wow.
this is perfect.
incredible work love!