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.

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A Perversion of Human Will

black-angel

I take my seat at the mistake of the century,
A willing bystander, discomfited,
But curious of my own prophesying—
Heralded eons ago but never heeded—
To challenge my own prescience,
Even though I acknowledge the futility
In humoring such an action.
Never one for disguise,
I’ve laid bare every feeling,
Every thought to illuminate your transcendence,
So imagine my shock when,
Like a pollution of my sentiments
And a mockery of my adoration,
You stole the words from my mouth
And offered them to another.
As though a progeny of the debased,
You have settled for the undeserving,
Squandering your radiance,
Your gifts;
And very soon, I fear,
Your body will be forfeit
And something alien and unconsented
Will take hold of you, dragging you further
Into the abyss you yourself acknowledge
But plunge into headfirst,
Because fear—
Fear is a potent drug,
And you have not the power
To break free from it.

Raging Texan

hanging-swing

You are a raging alcoholic,
A bleeding masochist
Delighting in the debauchery
You wade in to ignite your self-loathing
And justify the stoicism that defines your life.
You are the type of person,
So entrenched in hopelessness
That you would excuse a domestic abuser,
Because co-dependence outweighs your well-being,
Despite your assertions to the contrary.
And I, fatigued by observation,
Resort to this libelous tirade
For no other reason than to obtain a mote of agency
Among the shipwreck caused by your storm;
And should this offer offense,
I hope you file suit
If only to come face-to-face with the realization
That your self-degradation is not internal,
That your immolation is a holocaust
Burning those around you.
You tried your damnedest
To send me spiraling,
But you didn’t even have to lift a finger;
Without effort, you conceive of machinations
So twisted and deranged no other could birth them,
And plummet me into ruin
In some sick imposition of penance.
You have accepted your birthright to catastrophe,
Wielding your inheritance as a shield
To protect yourself from those
Who would sever the binding on your wings
And see you take flight to the heavens above,
Proving yourself a god among the paltry.
You have withered,
Dragging those unfortunate enough
To be caught in your grasp with you
And suffocating them in the smoke,
Drowning them in the liquid,
Surrounding them with the profane and degenerate,
Until all these ugly truths
Morph into something else entirely
And you can vindicate your rage in ubiquity.

Me, Vulnerable

Hand light particles

Here am I,
Vulnerable and exposed,
Because unlike the craven and weak,
I will not succumb to puerility—
Deluded by ego
Into believing there is strength
In shutting the world off,
Denying it my love and truth.
Revealing myself to her fully,
Whether in acceptance or rejection,
There is value in this soul’s existence,
And to repudiate that would be to blaspheme
Not only myself, but the spirits of those
Who would dare keep me in good company.
Even in the face of tragedy
The road to progress is singular,
And whether it cut me,
Bruise me,
Or hang me from the noose,
I will not lose sight.
Palm ever outward,
I will show them my own weakness,
My insecurities and fears,
And in the embrace of the few
Who would cherish me for all aspects,
I know there is a love that cannot be broken,
And when my moment is at hand,
I will die well because of it.