These Obliterated Affairs

City ruins

I’ve done it again:
Set everything around me to ruin.
With the gentlest of touches
I have collapsed empires,
Toppled monuments,
And razed the capitals
That govern my id;
I have ruptured the dams
That hold this deluge at bay
So these tears can flow unhindered,
Wash away the rubble from these obliterated affairs
And, perhaps one day, begin this earth anew . . .
At least that’s what I tell myself
So I may retain the slightest agency,
When the truth is I’m not responsible for any of it;
This world of ruin in which I dwell,
Is something that happened to me,
Not because of me,
So how dare you tell me to stay on my feet,
To keep fighting and never surrender,
When there’s grass so much greener elsewhere
And I have wings to fly away on?

The Only War That Mattered, Lost

Giants vs man

This is what war feels like—
Not a conflict of nations or political agendas
Waged in faraway deserts neglected,
With anonymous bombs falling overhead;
I am talking about the battle for a soul,
The desperate struggle to offer salvation.
After all this time, I still cannot prevaricate
And pretend I entered this war zone armed;
In fact, I was defenseless,
Helpless as a baby out of the womb,
And unprepared for the cost of bloodshed.
I scrambled when you unleashed your magic,
Reached out for any weapon I could find
To combat your dark god:
He you swear reverence to despite your repulsion.
I stood trembling before the monolith,
Wondering how I might ever conquer,
Ever slay such a beast,
But as I searched your eyes,
Beautiful even in their insipidity,
I realized you didn’t want him overthrown.
You prostituted your soul over and over again
For the mysticism he proffered,
Carving away a sliver of yourself with each transaction;
You are now a husk,
Depraved and possessed by this wickedness.
The malevolent deity that speaks in your voice
Is not you, but some perverse infection.
Tearful, I knew I could never conquer this spirit—
Your god—
And had I arms to attack, I would have cast them off then;
And all the same, I fled the wasteland you inhabit
To safer ground, to wet your grave with my tears,
Because you’re not alive—
Not really—
And because you have died, my love,
So have I.

Even Angels Suffer

Suffering angel

You’ve castrated me,
Revealed me for my impotence;
I am unable to save you
From the demons that tear at your mind
And gnash at your soul.
I watch, a helpless spectator,
As tortured as you,
Knowing in the end you will perish
Under this insufferable weight
That has already dragged you down so far.
Your immeasurable beauty,
Sadly,
Is no match against this force unstoppable,
Derived from the darkest facets
Of a consciousness plagued by sins
It should not take responsibility for.
It is through cowardice
And no chivalrous attribute
That I flee in this,
Your most desperate moment,
And leave you to face these trials alone,
Because I cannot bear to see
This pain lacerate you all over again.
In the corners of my comfort zone
I weep not for my failures,
But for you,
And pray to every god
You’ll see this through.