Another Apocalpytic Poem

 

I am woefully uncreative and fall into the trappings of writing the same sort of dream imagery and depressing or grotesque descriptors of myself or the world around me repeatedly without ever improving. The following poem is one such example of this lack of creative progress. Based on dreams and certain individuals and lingering feelings that churn and burn inside me to the point of exhaustion, confusion, overwhelming feelings, and collapse. I try to make sense of things through writing but it only ever comes off as these dirge-like exercises of nonsensical misery. This one, again, is no different. 

“I've seen the eyes of the living dead.
It's the same game, survival
The great mass play a waiting game

Embalmed, crippled
Dying in fear of pain.”

- Brendan Perry

An Invitation to the Fall

Facing an inevitable disaster,
Leave this place with me,
Downpour beating down my head,
You’re looking through my exit wounds,
Somehow seeing electric sparks
And moonlit shards of glass,
All reflecting back to you.

Sick to death of simple imagining,
I wish to tie a knot around your twisting manifestations
Cascading out of my empty eye sockets.
Empty from watching the bisected sky
Folding over and swallowing the remaining anemic trees,
Legions of insects erupting
Struggling for shelter 
In my moss-covered corpse.
Dirt below is eating itself,
Sheetrock and steel swallowed up 
In the void chained to the earth.
We’re beyond strange times. 

Buildings reversing through time,
I’m filling my lungs with polluted rubble
And radio wire
Trying to hold fast to a construct of your elusive form,
Please don’t disappear from me.

The night trickles in harmful filaments,

My mind creates a ceaseless pursuit towards

A consuming necropolis,

It’s all going to end. 

But you’re there, I have to believe you see them too.

Children dig themselves out of desecrated wombs,

Their fingernails slipping off, 

Piling into concrete foundations,

Only a momentary glimpse of what’s to come.

Futile efforts cracking open this blighted sphere,

City streets are lined with malformed teeth

Grinding through umbilical cords,

And with discarded intestines,

The nightmare children pound away at membrane drums

Echoing into an autopsy of the heavens. 

I’m beckoning you to join me

In every crippled corner

Of my disintegrating dreams,

As my eyes fill you with visions of dead stars

And memories of total eradication,

I paint your sadness onto my remaining flesh,

Colored by a night of connection,

A veiled nexus,

And inoculated uncertainty. 

I can’t control my spiraling brain

As it cleaves open,

Musculature and veins lying in strips 

All along my exploded skull,

Lost in the rising walls of phantasmal nonsense,

I can’t hold on to anything. 

Now the solstice is crucified,

Dangling with pockmarked skin 

And cascading inverted shadows

From chewed at cosmos,

Decaying everything it touches. 

Your twirling and glimmering through the rebirth,

All surrounding structures rebuilding

From the mile-high heaps of human dregs.

A causeway of pneumatic tubes

Weaving up and around steeples and belltowers,

Whistling incomprehensible chants 

Through great churches to the new mechanical flesh.

Pale sea-green light bathes a city,

Giant test tubes fixed to the faces of newfound buildings

Of bones and scalpels.

Impossibly enormous jarred fetuses peer through the empty night

I’m reanimated through your gaze

As I see you subtly glowing in this nightmare city

Of a glorious and inviting apocalypse.

And through the hypodermic stars

And screaming edifices shouting out 

From xenomorphic stone,

The irregular drip-drop of scrap metal IVs,

The heaving and crackling of polished porcelain earth,

Through synthesized tufts of toxic clouds

And the dull green rain, glittering through all the pores

Of the painted martyrized dead,

Comes a lovely little degloved hand

Unfurling out to me.

Flesh blossoming as it gracefully scrapes

Against my maligned existence,

Kneading through my poisoned bramble of struggles,

Waves of static and unrest converge, overlap, and disintegrate

At the frontier of your permeating gaze,

You’re my invitation to the fall. 

-

The world breaks, the day blinks in cold isolation

There’s nothing left from the dream.

Traversing through puddles of cigarette smoke,

Makeshift razor wire tied around my throat

Mockery of self-executions 

Playing vivid dances amongst the fog in my head. 

I still smell the formaldehyde whitecaps,

Burnt images of H.R. Giger horizons,

Unborn sinew boiling in the brine,

Lighting up the twitching, spasmodic night.

And you were there,

Bewitching me to fall into you,

An unfolding apocalypse.

I’m making myself sick on ambition.

A temperamental yearning,

Struggling to trust at all,

But trying desperately to lock my trembling fingers

Into keeping all those dream visions of you

Forever close to me.

The end is surging and coming on fast,

I don’t want to have to face my own annihilation

Alone. 

-