Poetry Attempt: Nightmare Hospital/Apocalyptic Musings

 This is the biggest pile of nonsensical junk I have ever written - and it took me forever to finally "finish" it. Really, this should not be one "poem" and probably should be split into multiple different ones. But whatever, everything I write is so thematically similar and uses the same language over and over again so it's not like it really makes a difference anyway. File this one under the ongoing nightmare of human existence. 

Whispers from the Ward

Umbilical filigree severed by drunken scalpels 

Flickering nurses escape into

Their own ghastly shadows 

Lepers hide within disintegrating phone lines 

Filling the syringes with static

And mumbles of anethesia-soaked conspiracies

Aimed directly at all ugly stragglers of the apocalypse.

Cold steel barrel pressed into rosy faces

A flash of black smoke, a flowering wound

Gift a new monstrous reconstruction 

To the little faceless gargoyles,

Lost infants with lungs lined with pennyroyal

Still dangling from a forest

Of all their mothers’ deeply lacerated thighs. 

Rejected from the divine nothing 

Forever struggling to truly sleep 

In their searing bedsheets of gauze,

While their ectopic hearts 

Slowly pump a narcotic ocean 

Never to fully numb the spidery pain,

The excruciating, unseeable ache

Of permanent existence,

But these walls hear their secrets 

And tightly hold in all their persistent screams. 

-

The room next to me,

Sounds of life squirming out of hospital waste

They crawl out of collapsed bins of used needles

And IVs siphoned of blood.

My previous name scrawled across their scabbed chests

Yellowed skin struggling to stretch 

Across sinewy imperfections 

As one by one, their faces mutate

Eyeballs rolling out,

Black mould growing out of fingertips

Right before they snap off,

They all melt together in a cavern of wounds 

Beneath the rolling clouds of agent orange

Spilling in great bouts between 

Suctioned orifices lining the primordial walls. 

No one knows of this suffering,

Always someone next to unwillingly accept

The unholy invitation to painful rebirth 

And desired destruction that never comes fast enough.

Outside, the world falls under the black ships

Cutting through the blood clot clouds,

Staircases of children’s corpses

Criss-cross through the poisoned breeze. 

Below, the perimeters of all points of the horizon

Are lined with car crashes 

Bodies of little girls stuck in the smashed windshields

Heads sizzling on the exploding engines

Mothers all rhythmically saw away 

At the twig-like limbs

And gleefully feast on the culmination of fears.

The hospital grounds, built on the center of these atrocities 

Looks out on a world carved out of suicidal fungus 

With waterfalls of tumbling severed tongues

As empty trains ceaselessly roll through the night

Reshaping the wilderness, expunging all life,

On tracks of electrified teeth. 

-

From my fixed position within

It's dreadfully clear, 

That the lunatics are having their way

A new order of cannibalism 

And celebrations of subversive perversities,

The thorns grow within our collective corroding veins.

I hear them chant across the hopeless halls;

“Snap the arms off

Hang up the body

Rip the hair out

Twist the knife in

Disembowel 

Caress the cuts

Consume

Rebirth.”

The whole of human existence

Grounded up in a bassinet of bot flies 

And broken hospital beds.

Our purpose has been orphaned long ago

Left as road kill

Sluicing down the cosmic cliffsides

Feeding the void bubbling and boiling

Beneath all of our putrid feet.

Somehow humans still find their way

In spite of a full awareness 

Of the guarantee of suffering

And the only certainty being 

An agonized, lonely death.

-

The nightmare ward beckons,

I have no choice but to listen in,

As, in the next room, a much-too-young woman’s 

Stomach swells

To an impossible degree.

The doctor’s collapsed body on the sterile floor

Monitors beeping and whirring uncontrollably

Her constrained wrists struggle to pull the plugs

Lights flash, burn out with an explosive snap

Broken lightbulb raining into her widening eyes

Her stomach quivers,

Thick layer of flesh undulating unevenly

Her uterus is crucified on the wall,

The womb is nothing but leftover scar tissue

Yet something still grows inside. 

Outside, cloaked heathens and controlled somnambulists 

Flog themselves in the waning moonlight

Thick rivulets of their miscolored blood

Crawl up the dead ivy-covered walls,

All congregating and churning in the ceiling tiles 

Slowly dripping into the pained woman’s screaming mouth,

Surging through her

Like an encroaching hurricane,

It pulls something forth.

Once more her skin ripples to the brink of rupturing,

The pale blood moon expands and pops

Pouring down noxious little nothing fragments

Cleaving into our heretical heads.

And with a final throat-shredding scream

Of unbearable agony making way for overwhelming lunacy,

Her stomach bursts forth

With a caravan of great swollen maggots

Carrying our heads on their pale, slime-ridden backs. 

Careening and coiling en masse, paving their way 

Out of the roaring hospital walls

Into the raptured, ungoverned outside world

And into each and every one of our

Screeching, unworthy mouths.

We’re all mindlessly directed,

Marching towards the imprisoning nightmare hospital,

Our heads no longer our own, 

As the great black birth of humanoid maggots

Swallow up the sky. 

-