Poetry

Beauty is death
I strive for the hideous
The peculiar the ugly
That which discloses only itself
May the golden drapes
On the infested wounds
Sour like curdled cream
Bury vacant in the lots
Of abandoned hopes
And lost dreams
That only were bandaids
On an aching heart
But now
Let me ache free
Be tormented in public
And not hide my wretched face
Behind a façade of wretchedness
 
Clean the glass dome
That capitulates anarchy
Into the senator’s home
That relinquishes from tyranny
Every god damn covenant
Residing silently like the snake
That told the whore
To eat the apples
And set her free
From the love of God
To toil and love in the fields of herself
To know the beauty of pain
The lush vegetation of torrential hatred
And torment so traumatic
That it could only manifest
In the coming into life
Of a new born
Naked and free
And secure
Ripped from the cortical vertex of intimacy
To bleed out into the world
And lay helpless on the table
To be taken care of
By that ugly wench that rejected him in the first place
 
To be born is to die
To suffer the ultimate rejection
So eat nothing and contaminate
The pond
For when one song is over
Another is beginning
And the cycle goes on….