You Will Never be Janne Olsson


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.


Would it Kill You to Kill Me?

Author’s note: these are actually lyrics to a song I wrote some time ago. I have restructured them here to read a little better. I would share the song itself, but I’m shite at singing.

I’ve waited so long,
I’ve waited to carry you home in my arms,
I’ve waited for that second chance,
I’ve waited for that gift that you’ll never give.
I’ve waited for all the things—
Beautiful things that hypnotize and entrance.
Contemplate the rest,
And let me die with my head buried in your chest.

Would it kill you to kill me?
Would it kill you just to go ahead and set me free?
Would it kill you to kill me?
Would it kill you to eradicate this disease?

I can’t even bear it,
So go on take this confession
And tear it to shreds,
Hope there’s nothing left—
No memory of me for you to cling to.
And if I die, would that be enough for you to satisfy
Your sanguinary horrific desires?
Your catatonic liars?

Would it kill you to kill me?
Would it kill you just to go ahead and set me free?
Would it kill you to kill me?
Would it kill you to eradicate this disease?

I’m already dying,
So drive these nails in and crucify me!
These lacerations won’t last—
Merely another mistake from your past,
And I won’t pretend that they didn’t happen,
‘Cause you know they did.
Should I act in blind obeisance,
Or would you rather subject me to your abuse?

Would it kill you to kill me?
Would it kill you just to go ahead and set me free?
Would it kill you to kill me?
Would it kill you to eradicate this disease?
Would it kill you to kill me?
Won’t you do it for me? Won’t you, please?
Would it kill you to kill me?
Why can’t you for once deliver me?

An Appeal of Sorts


I often wonder what would happen if I were to die tomorrow.
Would the lives I’ve drifted into weep for me?
Would there be eulogies and platitudes spoken in my honor?
How would you remember me, at the end?
Would it be with fondness,
As someone who loved you, lifted you up,
And offered something no one had before?
Or would you feel caustic, hating me
For my deprivation and abandonment?
You see, these are the thoughts that torment me,
Urging me to tear the flesh off my face
And immolate myself in some morbid asceticism;
But there is no atoning, is there—
No erasing pasts or healing wounds?
I can only hope tomorrow will not be my last
And, more importantly,
That whatever day is, you will be there beside me,
Standing vigil as my soul departs this realm forevermore.

Ponderings on the Shores of Death

Alone on the shore

What do you do
When the loneliness creeps into your heart,
Crushing you with the weight
Of a thousand temples that once stood
As monuments to your empire of amorosity?
How can you combat
Something that is so real,
Yet so intangible,
And strikes like a hurricane,
Crashing into the coast,
Felling even the tallest buildings
As though they were anthills?
This was never meant to be my fate,
But here I am, perennially,
Suffocating in this space,
So open because I share it with no one,
And yet it constricts me,
As though the space I occupy is more than I have.
Will death come soon,
Leaving my soul in regret
Because every achievement,
Every interaction,
Every thought, desire, and emotion
Was squandered, never shared,
And lost to oblivion?
If so, then this life is as waste;
These words are waste;
These breaths are waste;
And if I should forever exist on this bank of Styx,
Charon could not come swiftly enough
To ferry my soul to the underworld,
Where others know my solitude.

Mother of Pearl


Mother of Pearl, I have failed you.
You came to me in a dream,
Vulgar and brash as a cataclysm,
A soul in distress beyond our realm,
But I would be your vessel—
Your savior—
To do what you could not in life.
I accepted the onus
Because of my love, burgeoning,
Swearing to you I would never surrender,
Never accept anything
Short of fulfilling your request
And reflecting the light from your daughter’s spirit.
Mother of Pearl, I swear to you I tried,
But I’m not enough;
Despite every effort, every sacrifice,
I ran afoul of her temper and disgust
And was left bleeding, dying,
Wondering how, in such a feeble state,
I would ever be able to lift her up.
I lost your daughter, Mother of Pearl,
To the dark devices you forbade
Because it led you to this regret,
And now I will bear my own
As I watch everything I cherished,
Everything I love,
Conflagrate in the flames of abandonment.

Tearful, She Asked Why it Ended Like This

Family split

When a man and a woman fall in love,
Sometimes the world turns against them;
What they have is so beautiful, so pure,
All the ugliness in this hedonistic realm
Conspires to tear them down,
Rip them apart,
And conflagrate the remnants of their union.
There is nothing redemptive in this—
No moral to learn or silver lining—
Just the fact that you will feel pain,
Tears will be shed,
And those who would seek to watch you suffer
Will be elated with all they have stolen.
If there was ever proof that the devil is real,
My dear, this is it;
But if that evil exists, so does the good.
So yes, there will be pain and tears and sorrow,
Hatred and rage, and you, the victim.
But always you can choose how to face it,
Whether you want to run and hide
Or stand and weather the storm,
Feel the hurt, the sorrow,
Let every tear soil the ground
And watch a flower grow from it.
If you are strong enough to pluck it up
And lift it to the Sun,
Perhaps you will find something beyond the pain—
Something redemptive or a silver lining—
And realize
That no matter what the ugliness of this world inflicts upon you,
It cannot smother your beauty, your spirit.
You are God.

Eulogy for a Friendship, Once Believed Unbreakable

Alone desert

Attempting to retain your friendship
Is akin to wading through a desert
Searching for an oasis
Long ago burned away,
Cast into oblivion by the scorching sun:
There is no reward in it,
Not even a mote of salvation or redemption
To be found wherever resolve
Used to dictate you in the most beautiful manner.
You have ceased to be what you were;
A shell wearing a mask of your face
Breathes, talks, and carries out your actions,
But I have stared into those eyes
And, like a desert, they are barren,
Influenced by the materials of this world.
It is with spine-tingling horror
That I have realized it is all gone:
The affection that turned to sorrow
Has now drifted from desperation
To sheer apathy—so close to bliss—
And as much as I try to cling
To wraiths of a past I abhorred,
I can only admit in earnest
That I have outgrown you,
Moved beyond you,
And I am fairly certain
This is the last thing I will ever write about you.

Within the Shadow

Shadow of the Colossus artwork

Another one down;
Another one to surmount the guilt.
In this field of giants, what am I but a speck?
I am a plague, a darkness upon this forbidden land,
Rife with abominations,
But when the corpses mount the pile,
I am a titan among insects.

Hear me! father of the land:
I never wished for this fate.
With each transgression committed
I see myself more and more a beast,
An occupant of the greatest evil;
But if you come for me, beware:
I am the slayer of monoliths.

Is this a boast?
With each stab I feel my heart flutter,
Panged as though I were piercing myself.
These ululations of lament transmute,
Become tirades of anger and self-deprecation,
And though salvation may be won in the end,
Forgiveness is far beyond me.

In this silent prison—
This empty haven—
The beauty brings me to my knees,
Prayerful before the cursed altars,
Trembling for fear of the unknown:
The next monumental conflict—
An epic struggle.

There is no one to share the pain,
No one to comprehend the strife within;
Just my soul and a spurned god
And a cadaver awaiting resurrection.
Alone I embark, alone I succeed,
Alone I witness the horrors wrought by my hand
And the tragedies left in their wake.

But of all the atrocities enacted,
Yours, my fathers, were the worst.
And so to cast blame,
Only gaze into these hallowed pools
And witness the ripples of reflection.
For as much as I abhor what I’ve done,
I would herald the death of a thousand guardians
To undo the blessing bestowed for your sacrifice,
And see this dead beauty walk again.

*Special thanks to Fumito Ueda and his masterpiece for the inspiration for this writing