Incision of Dusk Kissed Escapades

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

“You are one to abhor attachments that, like chains, hold you to an immutable terrain of flesh-eating corpses, yet by contradiction of your modus operandi, you launch against the Maiden of Oblivion with stark acrimony.”

~*~

“I see that being left alone with me has set your talents free. Do you enjoy what you see? Let all who have eyes to see and all ears to hear how all difference and manners come to be. Yes, I abhor her whose promise is weak, as I do loathe the haze of dormancy, yet that hardly makes me a hypocrite. You see, in my centuries alive, I have never measured progress through the eclipse and dearth of consciousness. I am the mindful memory who propels forward with sentient step, crafting jewels out of events that nothing may go to waste. I accept my responsibility toward myself, and erect pillars of serving grace. I forgo surrendering war to the deceitful bliss of forgetfulness, and embrace the shadows born from my ancient crevices.”

Ameles Potamus (Existence is her Sin)

Curse the nepenthe of thy balmy lips and goblet bittersweet.

Thy promises repulse me as do all sugary nothings.

Indolent thou flowest through the cavern of sleep,

and I cavort and carouse in my musings of befouling thee.

Wretched! Blasphemous!

Assassin of all triumph that has ever come to be!

Thee I exile by the very word

which breathed thee absurd and serene!

I deny thy power in the stretching sails

of a soul and songbird by art of ravenous will,

and dethrone the silent terror of the aeons at thy feet.

Grace my ears with the canticle of thy dead screams

as I hail with pandimensional fury

to the rise of Mnemosyne!

Emptiness that feels

Give me the antidote

for this poison I abhorred and learnt to ignore.

Give the antidote that shedding vessels denies to the core.

I never wished to drink from the bitter river

which divests the Dark Dreamer

from the revelations of existence.

How can a heart suffer in absence of pain?

Her face – branded, paralyzed, and pale.

The mirror she held as life said farewell.

The death of the innocent.

It is all emptiness, yet I cascade!

I cascade with the grief of a foreign sentiment.

Forgive me, Your Majesty;

for thou didst meet thy end,

and no mercy caressed thee

‘fore the tearing of the flesh.

Thou took’st thy leave in blasphemy,

and truth remained unseen

amidst the lines of neglected poetry.

And truth was buried still…

destroying images of me.

~*~

I am sorry.