CESSPOOL CALLED HISTORY


I AM AN ISLAND IN THIS CESSPOOL CALLED HISTORY
I INHABIT THE CRUMPLED REMAINS OF A PLACE THAT
ONCE WAS...SUFFOCATING IN A SOLITUDE SO FULFILLING
THAT THE MEREST RENDEVOUS BECOMES A CRUXIFICTION

A SOLITUDE MORE CHAOTIC THAN WAR
A STOIC WHO REMAINS UNDAUNTED AMONG THE RUINS
OF A WORLD SHATTERED INTO ATOMS
SOME OF US ARE BORNE WEARY OF BEING BORN
GIVEN THE GIFT OF LIFE TO LIVE OBSESSED W/ DEATH

WE BURY ON OUR SOULS THE CORPSES WE HAVE NOT
YET MURDERED...LIKE AN ANGEL DAFTED ON TO THE
BACK OF A LEPER...A CRIMINAL SAINT...THE HERO OF
YESTERDAY BECOMES THE TYRANT OF TOMORROW
UNLESS HE CRUCIFIES HIMSELF TODAY....

THE RESTLESSNESS OF SLEEPLESS NIGHTS DIG TRENCHES
WHERE THE CORPSES OF MEMORY LAY ROTTING...
A CRATER OF LUCIDITY WHISPERS...TIME...TIME...
THAT SLAUGHTER HOUSE OF THE UNIVERSE...
WHERE IS IT NOT IN THE NATURE OF A MAN WHO
CANNOT KILL HIMSELF TO SEEK REVENGE AGAINST
WHATEVER ENJOYS EXISTING