SHADOW AND FIRE
(Photo by Peter Forster)
*Disclaimer - This blog depicts violent thoughts and acts that are meant to be taken as metaphor. I do not wish harm upon anyone, nor do I encourage such behavior. My violence is reserved exclusively for the apparitions swirling around my typer at night when the wine is low and the phone is silent.
Demons come calling. I've lost the fire. I have no more defense to the absurdity of life. Red wine is my only salve. The love of friends has run rotten. I see love like a postage stamp. Letters from afar. Thoughts sent from impenetrable caves, faces lined with shadow and fire, tears like crystal falling from iris. Death is a long journey. The mind is empty. The heart is dense, sinks faster than lead during each innocuous second. I have died a thousand times before the end of this sentence. I've died a million times on the head of a pin. I am born, dying, and dead in this red wine infinitum.
Empty. Empty. Blind. I cannot see the light. I cannot feel the heat from the source. Disappointed eyes are upon me. They watch and swoop like vampire bats. How I long for light. How I long for a way out of this cave. Crystal tears, my currency. Hold them up to the darkness. Hold them up to the light and the air, the freshness of grass beneath my nostrils. Hold them up above this mind, this horny politicking time bomb, dismembering all that come too close. Don't save me. Let me die in the dark.
My father is calling out to me. We are to meet in hell and fight for the Devil's amusement. He will win, for I am only a copy, a cheap carbon of sin. Don't print me. Kill me. Don't read me. Run from me, for I am the antichrist in sheep's clothing. I am the slug from the great beyond. I will drain you with my tragedy. I will break you with my irony. I will collect your crystal tears for currency. I will down a bottle of Amador's finest. I am a villain, a selfish Satan that slithers in the afterbirth of all that is good.
The embers burn. The loneliness consumes. The soul flutters on the wings of a bat. My feet are stuck in mud. My hands are ridiculous, wrapping around your throat, squeezing. Feel this pain. I want you to feel this pain. The nova behind the eyes of the ordinary man, the responsible man. I want you to burn like I burn. I want you to hesitate before you speak my name. I want you to kill me so that I might be reborn with exoskeleton and butterfly wings. I sail away on the edge of pain, a tsunami flowing and crashing into oblivion.
My head is stuck in the clouds. My crystal tears project lightning into the heart—shaped holes of foolish men. I rain down, I sleet and hail above your solace. I laugh as you shiver in the dark wind. I punch you in the mouth. I throw you against the toilet until it shatters. I throw you over furniture. I grab you, poke you, punch you until your skin is one giant bruise, just like you did Sal, huh? I bruise you the way you have bruised us, the way you have bruised the world. I will meet you in hell. I am looking forward to it. You have no idea how strong I've become.
