It all went to hell, everything, everything fell apart. Like revelations everything burned, swept up in an orange fiery haze. Lungs choked, emotions rampant. My devils and demons collided, the oceans ran dry and my heart expelled from my chest through my throat.
I could feel nothing any more but the remorse of my decisions. The lack luster I had put forth in my life was my all consuming inevitability of my end. I thought for sure I would rise through my ranks but I was foolish to my touch.
I ignored signs and took pity upon myself. Now I am stand in blood as the resonating regrets of my life spill from pale mouths like Greek gods born of jealousy or payment. Tit for tat and I cannot cry, I cannot weep.
The heat of these flames hold me arid, barren to the emotions I should have. But the chaos before me has taken all order, the snake has devoured itself and Pandora cannot be shut. I turned the key the moment I let myself feel sorry.
The moment I turned away thinking I am but a desolate soul, lost to the catacombs of ghosts. Disembodied I be, now wandering blind, screaming with deaf ears. Who shall hear, who shall hear? No one, for this is my story and I have written it poorly.
I let demons be my anchor of thought and angels be my entertainment. How awful, how vile, how disgusting be I. Though my feet bleed from my constant climbs to the highest points. I allowed them to triumph. These hills, these high cliffs I climbed, I allowed my broken bones be my reason to cease.
I wrote myself as not a hero, but a static character. A character as nothing more than a backboard to keep the sound from echoing. To keep the true hero from escaping his dreams. And that hero, I long left to his will. For I was no worthy to keep scribe of his thoughts, his ambitious.
For I have nothing to show, nothing to present to my heart or another. Expelled it lay lifeless, an organ for the devotion of death. Take it, lather in its blood and savor it succulence of suffering. I need it nor more, all is lost to these desolate plains.
My eyes have melted like wax, my face has aged and my soul be frail in expression. I now drown in flames as hell peers from behind this white curtain built of ribs. And what shall I do to cease its seizing of I?
Nothing, I shall do nothing. I shall lay still, a sacrifice upon a stone, a lamb, a goat. However you please to look at it. Cut me open, disembowel this cretin I be. Sew shut my mouth so I may not give word. Marinate my flesh in the spit of a beast.
Take this old body, I need it no more.
For I must die, I must collapse under this weight and be smothered by the end. By the implosion of everything. So that I may peel from this feeble carcass, this aimless torso and walkaway from the torment.
Transport me to the next chapter, let me escape this archipelago so I may know true suffering. Find myself in the labor of both god and devil. Transform this aching soul and allow me to revel in my doomed senses finding myself in a revelation of new breath.
Do you believe we die more than once in our lives? The death of ego?
We all will learn to either be of suffering or live suffering, A Man's Traveled Heart