Monday, October 31, 2005

la mort de la vie

la mort de la vie

Leave me to my battlements,
ask not about my sentiments.

I'll rage against this place
until I'm no longer able;
not underneath the table
hiding with a covered face.

When the last words you hear
from a dying person are
"I love you"

over and over again

every day on the phone

and you
couldn't go
see the person
you couldn't be there--
you wither inside
along with that person.

And now the end is near.

And now the person's body
is on its own
with no self inside,
and almost no hope.

Swiftly death closes in
as soul & memory evaporate.

This cannot be happening.
It is happening.

It happens to all.

Hating it won't make it go away.

Makes me fight more fiercely.
Makes me swear to destroy.

I shall indeed destroy

what I decide to hate,

over and over again

until I myself collapse

and sink into what

is not,

what is

no longer me.

[signed] Steven Streight aka Vaspers the Grate


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