You are the love of my life:
My best friend,
My pillar;
Our love is jejune and beautiful,
A delicate struggle,
A passion worth fighting for.
But for all the empyreal bliss—
Every piece that fits together—
There is something horrid,
Ripping away at my soul,
Tethering me to the earth,
Grounding me to your delusions.
I have become your shield,
And you my escape from the world,
And as high as our fire rises,
It also razes the landscape
Of my psychological well-being
So that I know love is not enough,
The will to push through is not enough;
You are not enough for me,
And I am not enough for you.
To preserve this rotting phalanx
That safeguards the tendrils of my sanity,
I am sorry, dear lover:
I must sever this chain that binds us
And soar to the sky, where I belong,
And if you choose to follow,
Know that the heavens are big enough for us both,
But they are not ours to conquer,
As we tried to possess the earth,
And I am here to receive new grace,
As I have nothing left to give.


The Escape

Chained spirit

You cloud your life with distraction
To eschew a day of facing the mirror,
Standing up to face reality,
And asking yourself, “How did I get here?”
Drowning in waste and stagnation
Has no appeal in your eyes,
But you acquiesce to them all the same,
Constraining your spirit in bottles and paper,
Chaining your potential to a flame that falters,
Pushing through each day, just going through the motions.

This is what hell feels like:
Watching you squander everything you have,
All the value and light your existence is worth,
Surrounding yourself with trifles to enable you
To forget the apocalypse you survived.
But you are alive, and too strong to be crushed
By corporeal forces or emotional demons,
And yet when you look in the mirror
You don’t see past the terror of the cataclysm
That shook your world and shattered your foundation;
Vapid, you turn to killing yourself again
So that you don’t live, but merely exist,
And ensure your spirit remains bound to the rock
And, in Promethean fashion, are tortured anew each day.


Light within

Now that you have offered me a glimpse
Into your spirit, carefree and ethereal,
I cannot turn back,
Cannot pretend I don’t know
What true beauty is.
Such a wonderful gift
You imparted upon me
Just by being yourself,
By showing me your soul;
And now, in your absence,
Everything is the dullest grey.
There is no meaning,
No substance,
No value
Left in this world, save what you possess;
And though I wander alone
Through fields of doubt and insecurity,
It is your light I now carry with me
To blot out the smoke of distress,
And though it’s just a sliver of your divinity,
It is enough,
And I will carry it with me always
As I venture into the black.

Renewal Through Bloodshed

River of blood

You are my hubris,
My succubus,
Feeding on every ounce of pessimism
Draining from this puerile cadaver.
You sit across from me,
Smiling in the way only you can,
Delighting in how your mere presence
Is enough to derail my sensibilities.
Since time immemorial,
Or so it seems,
You have been there,
Knife in hand waiting to thrust:
To make me bleed,
Watch me squirm,
And suckle my wounds
With your infernal agenda;
But by the gods of Olympus,
And the heavens,
I will no longer deign to live under your heel—
Your oppressive sadism.
You are a witch,
A demon,
And I will strangle you,
Eviscerate you,
Disembowel you,
And watch your blood cleanse these streets
Of the filth you’ve perforated them with,
And I will not cease
Until you are ash at my feet.

A Discussion of “Rage and Penance”

Note: this delves into the meaning behind my latest piece, “Rage and Penance.” If you have not yet read it, I highly recommend reading it first and then revisiting this explanation. You can find that piece here.

Hello, all. I want to start by thanking you for your continued support and occasional kind words. The greatest compliment is to know others are impacted by my writing, and I  don’t take that for granted.

I’m not typically one to dissect my work and leave it on the table for everyone to examine. I believe thoroughly in allowing audiences to decipher their own meaning from my work. However, on extreme occasion I will pen something of particular significance and feel the audience is best served knowing the story behind the work.

My latest post, “Rage and Penance,” is one of those works.

While the prose is far less eloquent and sophisticated than I typically strive for, I received feedback that it was raw and powerful—two traits I was shooting for. I decided to leave it as is for a couple of weeks so that readers who stumbled across it could draw their own conclusions. It does, after all, seem to tell a pretty frank story.

In this case, there is much more to it beyond personal emotions. While certainly I drew from personal experience to craft this particular piece, it involves a common tale (at least among the Western world) that virtually everyone knows, at least to some extent.

My first goal, of course, was for the reader to find some connection to the piece, to be able to relate to it and take something away from it (which is a goal for everything I write). Beyond that, however, I wanted to offer a fresh and alternative perspective to a well-known tale, painting the antagonist of this tale as the sympathetic victim.

This piece, in truth, is a retelling of Satan’s ejection from heaven, told through the lens of Lucifer. One of two core frustrations in the piece is his struggle with having been evicted from God’s love over one mistake, and furthermore is forced to watch as humanity sins against him again and again, and yet has an infinite number of chances for salvation (at least until death). The other, of course, is that of the scorned ex-lover, lashing out when he realizes there is no manner in which forgiveness can be bestowed and the love he had restored.

As a closer, I would like to clarify (despite hating feeling the need to) this piece is in no way meant to render a religious statement or elucidate a personal belief. As I am not a  Christian and don’t subscribe to the beliefs of God or Satan, this is merely taking a mythological tale and reversing the roles, as one might do with Prometheus, the Trojan War, Loki, or any other number of mythological figures.

Thank you all for your continued support. Please feel free to share your thoughts with this piece and its meaning. I appreciate all manner of feedback, provided its constructive.

Rage and Penance

Shadow lights

I am not ashamed to admit I love you,
That every action was to impress you,
Make you look at me differently,
Dote upon me your affections;
And the truth is—
Regardless of what the prevaricators say—
That I worshiped you unconditionally.
It took one mistake,
One fleeting moment of self-centeredness,
For you to turn your back on me,
To cast me from your presence,
Your life,
Your home,
Exiling me to the cold and dark
Crevices of the universe,
Where you made sure I would bear witness
To all the love you had for me
That now you give to others;
Yet somehow it is I who is profaned!
I have been slandered and demonized
As I am forced to watch you cavort
With those you cherish so much,
Who wound you every day of your existence.
I am not the monster here;
Can you blame me for the acrimony?
You have stolen everything from me
For all my days over a singular mistake,
While your despicable new favorites
Are granted clemency for each of theirs.
Is it a wonder I’m so hateful,
That I lash out
And seek to prove how much better I am
Than your pathetic pets?
By now you have made it clear
That you would do nothing with my devotion
But conflagrate it with your wrath—
Your ungodly rage and penance—
So how dare you accuse me
Of any wrongdoing or evil?
You, who has the adoration of the world
And could never possibly fathom
The sensation of being denied your attention.
It is not out of hatred I do these things,
But out of unrequited love;
And after this wicked eternity,
The fault is no longer with me,
But you alone.

Ascetic Infatuation

Light Dark Angel

I shudder in the presence of your strength,
Buried beneath the insecurity and puerility;
Seeing what others cannot see—
What even you fail to see—
Is as frustrating as it is rewarding.
In the iridescence of your spirit
Peace irradiates, as necessary as oxygen
To my fragile, splintered soul,
And yet it is not mine to possess.
Tranquility has left me behind,
And if not under your radiance,
I can only retain peace of mind
Through self-imposed exile,
Staring up at your empyreal light
From this cavern of reclusion,
Reaching out intermittently
To bask in the glory once more,
Though it is noxious to my spirit.
In the end, I alone bear the blame
For this toxic purgatory I have succumbed to,
And so I have forfeited the right
To lash out, to emote rage,
And wound you for my failures.