None of you are real.
There is no place for me.
And you will all sing
in the great name of my derranged.
Half here, half forgot.
In your worst nightmares.
Where the screams are silent
the breath is agony
and the rivers run to the sky.
I'm the one sitting still
in the tearing madness
all the colors have bled to the floor
all the meaning has dried.
children thrashing in the womb
the song turned to sirens
the debris of the shattered sky
cracking dirty pavement.
No one will be spared.
None but the engineer.
Watching the stillness come.
Waiting for the hammer to fall.
In one perfect conclusion of shockwave and dust.
A never ending rampage of ash and terror.
Sweeping me aside for a fresh glimpse.
A new sun.
Old fingers.
Old
tired
fingers
and then
peace?
finality?
absolution?
Rest.
You'll never know how tired you can be until that moment.
Was it defeat?
Or simply cessation?
Was I ever there?
Were you?
...were you that smile I caught
like butterfly wings
between those old
tired
fingers?
Or was it just another sad, crazed delusion
of an old heart
trapped.
Rejected?
Stolen?
