Broken down business, empty monolith, or broken man??!?
Cavernous walls placated inner hostility yet outward atrocity swelled beneath the veneer
My granite asylum was muddied, and festered with heartache while my veins filled with deceit,
The hints of pain come piercing with sorrow, each one racked in brushstrokes expressing fear
These walls, my walls, sate with heartbreak, meticulously dosed with anger and envy.
Each fissure was privy to consenting faces, ones that promulgated in these once bustled halls
Yet silent scorn toyed so oft, as if my so-called empaths didn’t know the veneer already
Most times I’d amble around, not daring to make a sound, as if I was bitten by a rabid tsetse.
Inside windswept stones, was an unsteady sickness, one that feasts heavily in covert darkness.
Scars were manifested so none could glint when rained upon, their efforts carefully buried
Pristine-like window panes, once highly lauded eyes, now moonlight as shards of souls
Each shard was apposite of the perdition of my goals like fragments on ashen floors
Their panoramas seemingly sullied in lies and their lifeforces were swallowed whole
I wonder how long I’ve been blinded for, how long I’ve lived in this voided world of hue?
The water spewing drearily in the background the constant dripping, a displaced sound,
Like a droning train passing by each of the guttering subway lights, their thuds imbrue…
In dishonesty it seems that, a whetted apathy would always stem from the inside
When the edifices and occupants would opt for her entice, and her mendacious charm
Then comes the fated trice where the footholds crumble, and the vessels deride
So tall we could stand, so proud, from the beginning I stood alone, and was admired
My soul was sired with such extolment, such majesty and intrinsically, I felt alive.
My dermis would quiver when sawblades would bombinate or welding torches were afire
My dreams had those rugged clatters, my core, that drive, and I thought them mellifluous.
At dusk when the bits of toil would finally settle, I’d find myself in solitude and supine
I’d enfold into the evening rain and the petrichor thereafter, proving joy was ambiguous
Now, twilight settles in and tears crawl out, solemn they are, portrayed as immaterial,
I know that I was the one who made this real, I was apprehensive about the end game
With grandeur, and perhaps trepidation in sight, I forgot to appreciate the peripherals
My residence was toxic way back then, so how could I ask you to rearrange your own.
With objective feelings honing my weakest insights I might’ve let you let me disappear
Like this existence so cautiously built, how it could be sucked away like this building’s soul
Immaterial, hmm, perhaps, but perplexing how emptiness and agony fit like stacked spoons,
In my head, each trying to outdo one another, so soon that friendly binders became spurious,
And reality spurns even me, how blind I have been to have loved or to fall for love too soon
So sensitive that word, “love,” it is a waning currency, inept sensation, so cheapened
And at times, grossly misused. The prospects offered are bleak and my heart was frigid cold,
like those barren stones that wept outside my windows, and the voids of regret they were leaving.
This delusion, or dream, and I, were symbiotic, to think otherwise is simply foolish
I expected at the zenith point of such calamity, that myself and Judas would indeed meet
And I’d realize my kingdom perished because of me, and that it was rightfully a cruel dish
I’ve fallen apart, an empty monolith, I am someone unfit to suffer this primal need to refurbish.
I find myself drably craving to reignite the furnace inside that stirs an inferno that requires breath.
I yearned for oxygen, your oxygen, I needed to hear you use it for me, to need me, I need purpose.
I need your voice to enfold into mine, into my soul like a gossamer blanket, soft and caressing.
I need your accession to help with decompressing, to nullify all the pain and hurt I’ve caused.
I need to right the many worlds that I’ve razed for success, maybe this hollow view is a blessing.
I desperately need the sanctity I felt when you were with me, running boardrooms in my head
Quelling unruly clefts in thought, shedding demons I’d dreamt up while lying in bed, I need you,
I must have you, to equate destruction, in some farce I’ve conjured, or to assert me that I was misled.
Else I amble blindly, stuck in the portrayal of an acting tyrant, consenting to no one’s creativity,
Lest I be pulled into this rapturous overtone, within my soul travails to where my proclivity hungers
And I can reveal those sinful places where my nous had dabbled, in hopes you forgive my negativity.
Lucidity exists in those little pockets of oxygen. Maybe there I’ll find succor in my tumultuous times,
To know the darkness is to know the light, as to shift my paradigm is to know a more righteous path
The knots in my gut have since unfurled, and the lingered pain confirms that punishments fit their crimes.
It’s funny, once the atrophy of trust takes place, once the denigration of the soul takes place,
It is really basic to pace out the events that occurred in life to conjure up such inner disparity.
Now at the behest of my soul I am reborn, older, wiser, and with the same clothes in the same space.
I push forth…no more mistakes…
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