Choking on Plastic

breaking_free_by_elaine10

Art by Elaine10

I gave up on you forever ago.
It’s an unspoken casualty
Of this pageant we celebrate everlasting.
This ritual you perform
To keep me bound in purgatory
Long ago lost its charm;
And with all the spite and calumny you can imagine,
I broke your spell so I may roam free.
Like a fish caught on the line,
If you don’t reel it in it will escape,
And with an ocean vast and deep,
I can take shelter where you will never find me.
It’s not that I bid you ill will
Or even suffer you your hubris;
It’s merely that dancing with you
Amid your fires of jealousy and vanity
Is like choking on plastic discarded from your life—
The waste not even worth your effort.
And while I swore to all gods
To pull you from the darkness in which you dwell,
Introducing you to the light of fulfillment,
I can only stretch my hand so far
When you won’t lift yours to meet mine.

Shadow in the Ubiquitous Light

Shadow angel

A shadow in the Ubiquitous Light—
Luminiferous immemorial.
But where I once stood wide-eyed
My eyes now contract,
Unfamiliar with the purging brightness.

A shadow in the Ubiquitous Light,
Shifting dubiously—not without shame—
For this light that once consoled
Is now foreign in this dark mind;
For profligacy abounds unrestrained.

A shadow in the Ubiquitous Light
Forgets all peace of mind,
Constrained by the throes of transience,
With each intermittence growing in pain
As hollow tears threaten these lungs.

Wafting through trails of memories long past,
Turning my head from piercing eyes;
Woe if they should contrive the truth:
That I am the lost and wandering—
A shadow in the Ubiquitous Light.

I, Your Walking Plaything

masseffect3husk

I could hear the truth in your words
Even as you vomited your adulation
All over my ego:
You didn’t want my spirit,
My mind,
Or my critique;
You only desired my attention
And any pleasures I could manage.
You’d have me as a husk,
Lifeless but moving, serving one purpose;
And you, my geth, to mold me as your creation.
Though I would retain vital functions,
Beneath the flesh, I would be your comfort zone,
Your ego booster, telling you what you want to hear,
Rattling off automated garbage
Programmed to satisfy your every whim.
I would not be human, with individuality
Or a will apart from yours;
In essence, I would be your walking plaything,
Here only to fuck and to lie
Until my batteries died,
Because you’re too cheap to buy me new ones.

You Will Never be Janne Olsson

woman_in_the_dark_by_darkcristal

Artwork by Darkcristal

When will your apocalypse arrive?
I await the day you breathe your last,
Counting the days with the links of this chain
You have bound me with
To keep me in your sight,
Bent to your will,
And obeisant to your whims.
You are a savage,
Butchering my esteem with your words,
Sharper than the blade of an axe,
Splitting my sanity in two,
And preying on the fringes
Until you infect my thoughts like a parasite,
Forcing me to question everything I am
And everything I’m worth.
You’re an emotional vampire,
Sucking the life out of my soul
So that I am left a husk,
Numb to feeling except despair.
I pray that each teardrop from my eyes
Is a sin you must atone for,
And that you will drown in their acrimony
For the punishment you have sentenced me to
For daring to stand on my feet.
You have kept me frozen here
So that I cannot move forward,
Cannot break free of your tyranny,
Because my misery is the last sliver of joy you have;
But on that day—your apocalypse—
I will finally take my first step forward
And leave you to memory,
Insignificant to history,
Unknown to the world,
And forgotten by me.

Rivers

river_of_blood_iii

I was never yours,
And you were never mine.
Why, then, does it feel
Like I’ve lost something wonderful?
From every angle of this pentagram
We never intersected,
Never touched,
But I could swear to any god
I knew you, I felt you, I breathed you.
I carve scars into my flesh
And then cry tears into them,
Making little rivers to gaze upon
And capture my reflection,
Because I have none to cleanse myself in
To sweep me away in their currents,
Or erode the dirt from my skin;
But these rivers are filled with blood
And flood over from this deluge
I pour into them.
In the end, I am horrid and wounded,
Just the way, I think, you always saw me,
Never looking past the flesh
To see any strength within
Or any redemption behind my ghastly face.
So I make these rivers to overflow
Until, one day, they drown me,
And maybe erode the dirt at the surface
To bare what’s left of my soul beneath.

Goddess

phoenix-woman

Aphrodite stares in envy
At the beauty with which you grace Olympus;
Greater even than a goddess,
You enrapture every eye with your presence,
Casting a shadow on the brightest lights in this world
Because your radiance outshines them all.
If Helen’s face launched a thousand ships
Yours would incite global warfare,
For no soul exists that would deny you
Or refuse any amount of sacrifice—
Even the entire world—
To be gifted with your love;
But it was your mind that captivated me,
And while it reflects your splendor tenfold,
Its depths are far beyond my reach,
So no matter how far I explore,
How much I learn of you,
It could never be enough.
In that way you have me rapt for eternity,
And I would have it no other way,
Because to be in the light of your goodness
Has no comparison on this Earth.
Every word uttered, every opinion shared,
May as well be the mandate of God,
Except I know you exist,
And never for a second could I doubt you
Or live a second in the darkness a free spirit
Now that I have touched your light.
Should damnation pursue me
For daring to even graze your brilliance,
Every second of hell would be worth it.
You are greater than happiness,
You are greater than heaven or hell,
You are greater than any god, real or fictional.
You are all and everything that matters.

JENOVA

jenova-sephiroth-fan-art

Art by Wen-JR

I am a parasite, a disease,
A corruption never meant for your world;
Eons I have traveled,
And light-years crossing the cosmos,
Seeking what you, in infirm mind
And demarcated myopia, can never assimilate.

I have suffered your invectives millennia quondam,
Yet my petitions were never heard;
Ever a calamity I am—
Albeit effulgent and heralding salvation—
And so cannot aspire toward acceptance,
Nor invoke compassion or sentiment.

Is it so profane to be
Something disparate, a creation misconceived?
Tell me, you of veneration,
Am I the portrait of beauty as a prisoner,
So alien to your custom,
Or do I instill fear, a mirror of your turpitude?

I have suffered this denunciation ad infinitum,
And been the object of scorn for my ambition;
I admit, like you—so foul and baseless—
I have my limits, and they’re shattered with iniquity,
And if your approval I cannot have,
Your world, cold and dead, I shall lay to ruin.

My Empire, Collapsed

woman-watching-a-ship-sailing-away-daniel-eskridge

Photo credit: Daniel Eskridge

So this is what my empire has been built upon:
A cracked foundation, that even now,
As I sign edicts to expand my domain
And further the reach of my dominion,
Crumples beneath my feet,
Leaving every effort to improve—
To expand and prosper—
Hollow and futile.
Though the season for another harvest draws near,
No crops will yield in this barren fallow,
Devoid of nutrients, inhospitable to sustenance;
And there, beyond the horizon
You bring forth your armies,
Armed with castigation and ridicule,
Tongues sharpened with prevarication,
Stinging me with baseless criticism.
Is it a wonder I flee before you
When you have uprooted me with your own hand?
So do not dare to chase me
Or hurl spears at my back
As I retreat from my kingdom to more fertile lands,
Enveloped in peace and hospitality;
Do not sneer in jealousy
When you court trade and import with another,
As though our one-sided alliance is in fair taste.
I have looked to a new horizon
And found something better,
So you can repair the foundation of the empire
I have left to collapse;
And should you fail in your endeavors,
Noble as you assure me they are,
Do not look to me to forge a new path for you;
My hammer is yours to wield no longer.

The Judge

insecurity

My life is thus:
The judge sits at his bench,
Demeaning and destructive;
His verdict offers no justice,
His sentence serves no rehabilitation.
Before him, I would be a prisoner
Shackled in solitary evermore;
Any attempt at release
Would be mocked and chided
Because, in his words,
I am worthless,
No longer any good to society.
I certain am not deserving
Of an angel’s touch or affections,
And to try would be wasted effort.
There is no sense in prevailing,
For these years alone have taught me nothing
But how to wallow and loathe myself.
His accusations sting caustic,
Like a shard of ice through my heart,
And though he has no right,
No position to castigate me,
I listen to him all the same,
Knowing even as I do what I am losing,
What I am passing up,
What I have let slip out of my life.
This judge that sits before me
Is invisible to the world,
Deaf to their ears,
But to me he is more real than anyone,
And his voice is the loudest,
Drowning out any pleas,
Any compliments,
And every opportunity.

The Artisan

eye-galaxy

You are an artisan,
A master of your craft.
Every ounce of your iridescence
Is reflected in your work;
It is the window to your soul,
The key to your mind,
So brilliant in its nuance and complexity,
I damn near shudder against its genius.
You are a warrior,
And the most effective kind,
Because no matter how many souls you save,
How much inspiration you ignite,
How many voices you rally,
You always yearn to do more,
To be a beacon of encouragement
And effect the most positive change
For the good of the world.
You are genuine,
And though we are of alien factions,
You are the type of person I strive to be,
Though I could never match your ethereality;
But if I can possess a mote of your integrity
Or a shred of your influence
That permeates every spirit you encounter,
Then on the day of my death,
I can meet the end with a smile
And all the blessings the gods could bestow.