But for what? For what glory. Or pain is it all worth?
Who are we anyway? Once the ego gets destroyed.
Laughing in vain over nothing that was ever worth worrying about anyway.
Why? What’s on the other side of the door? Flames of glory or burned down ashes. One in the same.
Who me? Why? I don’t fucking care. Even the myth of the flamed lovers isn’t enough to satiate this. This wondering. Wandering.
Where to and how? The dark hallway slits my wrists with its anger of forgotten beasts.
And the light. It’s too bright. It hurts my mangled flesh. Where once before I stood strong. Withstanding the ashes. Now, my skin too weak. It breaks like never before.
Gushing red roses bloom toward the sky. In search of Jupiter. Forever crying. When they see Saturn’s fucking chuckle again.
I whimper. Alive and fucking awoke. But why? I cry.
On bruised knees begotten by jaws. I lean over and heave everything I ever fucking knew outside a bounty of nowhere where the shadows don’t dance anymore.
They taunt me with their laughter. Pointing jagged fingers in their pleasure. Watching me turn to nothing. How I always felt anyway.
So now I just really know. Now I really know. The world cure, cruel by nature and breathing no sight of good found nature.
Everything lost inside the pain of your tearing away. The rip shredding every piece of goodness I ever thought maybe. And discarding it inside the shadow of where I once thought my soul was.
Never ever to be. I hate you. Like only the lover can. I hate you. Like only the deepest love holds.
Melting wax inside the marks of old floor boards. Where it can never ever be found or retrieved.