Tragedy Springs

This mortal wound

I’ve succumbed.

Saved myself

from calamity and

despair.

Only to perish

and join the ranks

of the dead.

Hear my requiem roar.

Loud, thrashing

syncopation

of bleak

copulations

mirroring defeat.

Married in

apprehension and

deceit.

Truly, truly

this is the end

of the

logical fallacies

drenched in black scabbards,

covered in white muses,

contempt of

reason,

seasons wither to the dead.

Watchtowers

are desecrated.

My own skin

consumed to nourish the

sinners unchanged;

Surreal,

forgotten.

Liars, Lovers,

heretics,

believers,

dreaming in

Technicolour

Alan Ginsburg.

Heaven falls

with the

sound of

pennies and lint.

Sometimes dreams

do not come true.

But most

times

we do die.

Where are you Odium?

Dream-defiler

set in a wretched backdrop

to the tune of

ropes creaking,

limestone rocks

unblinking.

Unfurled hatred.

Reading Kosinsky’s

last stand

at the gates of

Har Megiddo.

Backlashed

unmounted

step towards

sex and murder.

Liberate

Uniformity

drink from

pestilence to

resume dread

and the desire.

Simpletons drowned

recessed into crimson cavities.

Sundown black lit

funerals with pomp and circumcisions.

Inferno life

breath dead

sweet reverie

to adjusted withering petals.

Fires stoked to

raging Autopsy

Turvys.

Do not

breathe the air…

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