I Pen This Promise With a Diamond Tip

The best lines always evade me; I can never say what must be said to you, to her, to them... to myself. Mortality whispers in my ear. Mortality dances about my seer Allows it. Justly, for justice folding up my life's essence, putting it back into the prequel grave where I was before I was a tool for people to use, a youthfool unleashed putting on a ruse, wishing for the impossible, such as a slow, lovely conversation beside the golden firelight, where she is pensively apart for me, where I become one with the One Bluest Eye, transcendence that apprehends shallow surfaces passes them over like the sunset listening to faces cry over her face dead in the future my face as translucent fear once again as Reap aimed his scythe, and swung. Another scar, another Styx battlescar, these mental wars have worn my skin my thoughts unravel on that spindle-prick thin if I kiss Aurora she will die I will then turn around and look for him and cast my di and inhale lye and see that all along, the spirit robber’s Diablo song the man I told countless times to stop, to reverse his deceitful heart and ways, to remember the sunlit, beautiful days... We may think we are immortal. How foolish humans are. “Gods.” I’ll show you a god. I’ll show you the World’s Hill I crouch atop battered wings bloody face limbs ungodly limbs tainted Evil’s evil throw your lance and harpoon me from afar, O Grudge, I am only a god whose breath splits the air quakes supersede the molding graven stair down to my tomb awaiting the hell-fire psalm that’s never fading if melancholy gods like me keep trying to achieve immortality… I'll show you neither god nor human, but Truth. If only for a moment Truth became my bloodstream and mind, then Death and Despair would be shoved off the face of this Earthen lair. Whisk me away, O Darling Clementine, back to the hills where our lives were sublime, where the trees are never chopped, and my heart cannot be stopped, addiction is as fiction and I am on top. Into the chilly air I blew, the vapors skyward bloomed to death. We are the vapors that bloom unto death, a ceasing heart just spawns the next. M’Bluest Eye, M’Clem, you've left me here to die, and never hear your voice again. So once and for all, I give thee up, these poems hereon, your Name shall be-- nevermore, nevermore-- quoth this Pen, "Ne'er again."