~pseudo-Symmetric~
The mind fractures
and motes grow roots
beneath fabrication.
These are my eyes that see
another reality, where shadows crawl
like fingers upon a chalk board,
and torrent that spews from my tongue
is a voice I’ve never heard,
all that history buried beneath pseudo-reality
an angel mum who folded her wings
to ride the devil bare-back
and a sister who seduced
her father, her brother, a façade mother
releasing this monster in me.
He did no wrong
just stepped a little to close,
shattered the ambit of personal space
until I could lick his cologne,
-bastard-
fouling my shroud, threatening my superiority.
(why is it always surprise
that leaks from their eyes,
when bone and blade are fused)
I am negative god,
shearing a rib to take life;
returning all to dust
and steel is my power, my glory
for ever and ever.. amen.
His (my) fear lingered,
staining the air infecting my (his) lungs;
his (my) screams lightning in my brain
as I carved sin from his (my) smile.
There was flesh, red, raw flesh,
like road-kill scattered across the golden mile;
a menstruation of moonless blood,
pooled with sweat and urine.
-so sweet, sensual-
[This wasn’t me]
Quickly now,
spear the eyes like lollipops;
“see no evil”
Split the tool of lies;
“speak no evil”
Take the possibility of truth;
“hear no evil”
This man (me?),
lining the gutter like an unfinished take-away,
the main course of rats buffet,
with a long crooked smile
beneath the place it ought to be,
and I,
floundering in a maelstrom
of ecstasy from this person
that is (not) me.
Copyright ©
Colin Marschall
|