Another Failed Poem About My Immutable Desire for the End.

 

Untitled Sickness

The Sickness is Building 

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I yearn to be nocturnal 

To shift into a disembodied ending

Scrawling my epitaph 

Into the night’s domed vacuum 

Of birthing unclean stars.

Dying, reforming, dissolving, 

Forcing cosmic legs to part

For the heaving ugly extraction,

The creation of 

My pained entanglement of dreams

Ready to flood my insomniac skull. 

I want to watch with eyes peeled back 

As my last, meager grasp on reality 

Ruptures and oozes away

Ushering me, 

Naked and protoplasmic,

Into the new fleshless,

Formless melody

Of my atonal final song. 

I want to shred away this ashen skin 

Siphon out my chemical disease 

And every reeking, malodorous prescription 

Laying waste to my bloodstream,

Uncovering a new shattered wavelength of apathetic force

Tunneling out my brain. 

Take my unjustly corporeal

Razor-highway body 

And reduce it to wailing uselessness,

Now absolute and vestigial

I’m led straight into 

The torrential oily shadows 

Ever falling

Ever changing

Scattered but forever targeted 

At my slow annihilation. 

I want to have never woken up 

To another morning of inhabiting 

A vacuous human vessel

I want it all to stop. 

And I want something new to come along

To give me a deceptive sense of purpose,

No matter how fleeting

And insignificant. 

I want to be free

From my brain drowning in a fog of frost

But I conversely can’t wait

To finally succumb to it 

And 

Exit all of this. 

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The Sickness is Here to Stay. 

Discard me 

Into the furthest

Most shadowed depths of 

My malignant consciousness,

And take away every bit of agency,

All my so-called free-will

All that drives my vile delusions,

Take it all

And shred it into infinitesimal shards

Of self-annihilating atoms 

Phantoms starving for the end of the world,

Send them all to devour me

From the inside out

Gut me.

Harvest anything that’s left

Leave my hollow carcass

Strung up and swaying

From the solidified shafts of sordid moonlight

And allow some other horrid

Incomprehensible creature of the night

Slip in and take ownership 

Over all that I’ve been gifted 

But failed to do anything substantial with.

Strike now before the collapsing light of dawn

And deliver me

From myself,

Blink into silence, 

It’s over

And once again, 

I don’t feel anything

Anymore. 

Only a shivering spark 

Of nauseating aversion 

Against myself. 

It’s the final hour 

Time for my mind 

To dissipate. 

There’s nothing more to do

I’ve already given up

Such a long time ago. 

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