A Failed Expression of a Total Loss of Whatever Sense of Self I Still Had Left.

It has been another ten days or so since I've properly written anything at all. This past week and a half I have felt entirely unmotivated and numb to the point of immobility. It is a miracle I have been able to get out of bed and go to work at all throughout this. And every time I approached an empty page, or even had a thought of what to write or a line pop into my mostly vacant head, I would feel petrified and entirely incapable of doing anything at all. But, as a certain event unfolded beyond my control, I forced myself to sporadically write my possibly subconscious feelings on the matter. A great depersonalization took place, a total displacement from my already fragile and meager sense of self and identity. What is poorly written below is an attempt to express that, but what came out was mostly more stream-of-consciousness bullshit with probably no meaning whatsoever. I believe I have burned myself out, I feel as if there is nothing left within me but spoiling meat on disintegrating bones. Hopefully, I can soon approach destruction and the grave. 

Olivier De Sagazan

 

I Return As Nothing

A great gray crawling miasma 

Circulating with undirected

Carrion wrath,

Bleeding out of toppling smokestacks 

Billowing out from busted windows

Peering into canine slaughterhouses,

Parades of lethal injections 

Imprisoning the sinking, decimated metropolis.

Corruscating far below,

It’s crawling out from weeping shadows

Covering the sallow faces 

Of orphaned children 

Born from consecrated rubble

And slaughtered livestock 

Acid-filled wombs - all tattooed 

With prophetic inscriptions.

The children’s faces grow only more sallow,

Starving vultures peck away

At their dangling eyes.

Time overdoses and drools

Mucous through the ruined threshold 

Out of my control,

Severe prosecutors

Grind the little ones into twinkling paste

Clogging up the feeding tubes

Forcibly driven

Into all the ruptured throats of

Long-since buried,

But now unwillingly reanimated 

Asymmetrical angels. 

Suddenly, my voice

Dispossessed, begotten

From my blackened, cancerous lungs,

Drums at the depths of 

Crepuscular alters

Dedicated to a grand tradition

Exploring my sought-after decadent decay.

My body is nowhere near 

Replaced by an undulating revitalized stillbirth

Heaving itself out from

Overstuffed sewers sucking in torrents of filth,

Unformed, pulpy masses of flesh

Catches on causeways of atomized needles

Worming out of the scorched pavement,

Looking below, bereaved of any sense of self

Tearing myself into radiated, aborted fragments

Pulsating with a mocking sardonic life

As endless curtains of rain

Drill new vaporous pores

Into many open lesions

Replacing my face. 

A face I can not touch

Can no longer reach

With dissolving fingers, shorn to retched bones

Evaporating into an aerial assault

Of sharpened kitchen knives 

And storms of beheaded gargoyles 

Smashing, stabbing, reforming 

The stolen abandoned Earth. 

Last flailing, scratching tendrils

Of my consciousness 

Assimilates into the bulging black eye

Cleaving open the storm clouds;

- Now something else wears my face -

Misunderstanding visions of my apocalypse 

Intravenously siphoning 

My scrawny, uncertain black ink dreams

All words rejected 

By the hanged puppet mind

Inculcated with falsehoods 

And misappropriated stigmas 

Against what was once myself.

Fading thoughts give way to

Hollowed, meager existence

Devoid of any ownership 

Over my shameful nightmares,

Now without them,

Without known ownership over

Envisioned plights of child-directed famines,

Entrail leaking survivors feasting on their young,

Multitudes of endings folding over

All the poisoned and panicked beginnings 

With my futile arsenal of fetid

Depressive expression 

Robbed out from underneath me. 

Shackled to impossibly elusive forms

Siamesed to all agents 

Of personal armageddons,

Now there can no longer be a me,

If there was ever a me 

To begin with. 

As the chorus of tiny mass graves 

And sepulchers 

Overrun with haphazardly stitched together

Fetal experiments 

As far as eyes can see,

Wails into the trumpeting 

Human catastrophes 

Choking all shrinking pockets of space,

I unwantedly float above it all

Watching my stolen corpse below

Be ritualistically defiled 

As malignant dust of stars

Floods my vacant eyes. 

Awaiting my grand depersonalized return 

To all that I’ve ever been;

A secret summation of all suffering life,

The final answer to my purpose in all of this;

An embalmed, undead, gnawing

NOTHING. 

-