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.

Ten Years Dead

Headlights silhouette

Ten years dead
Under these fluorescent lights,
As sterile as my breathing,
Waking to the numbing cold
Of a decade in stasis:
No movement,
No interaction;
Just an abyss to while away the years—
The dream I had always wanted.

But the end didn’t come so easily,
And even though I chose
A bottle and a pair of headlights
Over confronting you and confessing all,
Fate was not inclined to acquiesce;
So here I lay, hearing the news
That everything I thought was true—
My entire perception—
Is a fragment of a past long gone.

Ten years dead,
But now I have awakened,
And with them all the passions
I feel for you, as strong as they were
Ten years past;
But you, I’m told, have moved on,
Nothing more than a footnote in my life,
With passions for someone else.
And now, when at once I thought
All that was there for me
Was a bottle and a pair headlights,
That is all that is left now,
Because I chose to squander
The ethereal beauty
That had once lain before my eyes.