I Woke Up to Find Myself Elderly and Abandoned
Phosphorescent cockroaches scurry
Hard against the edge of a shattered clock face
Desolate and silent
Hours wrapped up in chemical wind
Disintegrating into the surrounding desert sea,
Ink-dripping hands, forced into broken staircases
Point up desperately
At the graying, consuming borderline
A widening threshold in the night sky
Cut up and folded back,
Vestigial bits of future leak out
Into melted clay present dreams
Molding around my eyelids,
The winding, personalized abyss above
Calling my name
Is riddled with bite marks,
Accidental bruises,
And incessantly itching scabs
From all the times
I had to crawl my way out.
Moonlight still burns fire
That seeps into my tumorous
Rapidly aging flesh.
Every fading star merely another corpse,
A constellation of someones
I’ve all unrightfully lost,
All free-falling through this universal emptiness
Their spoiling meat and snapping tendons
Make spontaneous bouts of sweet, nocturnal music
At each ill-fated, randomized collision.
It’s beyond lonely down here, the wind won’t stop
My old body is hacked away at
Carried and rearranged
Splayed out on the broken clock face,
I blink
Neurological makeup smears
And I don’t know where I am
Or why
I am still sardonically alive.
-
Lining the infinite, spiraling desert,
While reanimated roaches,
Unknown aphids,
And interdimensional, omnipotent
Predatory arachnids
Ceaselessly crawl over me,
Terraforming my painfully shifting remains -
They whisper their secret plans;
“You’re going to wake up in a pink fog
Billowing from the dreamer’s last breath.
Invited to the grand temporal violation.
Flesh is scurrying backward
Unsheathing your polished bones,
The knotted sycamore stump
Cradles your shriveled, shrunken body
Wheezing, wailing, helpless,
Wasted years etched down your wrinkled wrists
Hesitation marks kissed
By the worms escaping varicose veins
As the world sings storms of ceaseless rending
Butchering you expertly
From everything and everyone you could possibly love.
You’re 14,
The incision has been made
You’re 17,
Light evaporates from your razor blade
You’re 21,
You’ve adopted the plaque
You’re 23,
You didn’t take enough pills
You’re 27
You’re 31.
Haunted by the maw of time,
All failed attempts caught up
Not yet; almost
If you’re not careful,
You’ll one day wake up to see
Your unfathomable existential ocean of nightmares
Will come true,
You’re 28.
A call to the void rejected,
You missed your chance
Now suicide no longer suits you.
A newfound identity of future cataclysmic charade,
One more shadow in line to slowly,
Unjustly
Get What You Deserve.”
My scenery turns sideways
Watching the trees and pregnant ashen clouds
Drip and fall.
How many days wasted?
How much time has crawled underneath
To die unnoticed and alone?
All while chemical warfare marched on
In its many futile experiments
To reshape me,
I should have been destroyed by now.
Waking eyeless in an unfamiliar world
A procession of fatherless, embalmed, crippled children
Slither through collapsed smoke stacks
Infectiously transforming human remains
And new nuclear flora,
Their melting porcelain faces
With million-year-old frowns
Are constructed by the same lines
Of all my past, childhood nightmares.
It’s the rapture again.
Mirrors of black insect fluids
Embedded in their pallid, empty chests
I can’t recognize myself in any of them
In any of this diseased, dejected lot
Stretching backwards and forwards through
Eviscerated, nonsense time.
But we share the same purple, swelling scars,
The same sleepless, shivering, anxious nights
The same loss and the same desire
For the end of all of this.
Curled-up fetus position
At the end of time,
Weathered, elderly, alone
In the collapsing, inverting
Desert clock face
I’ve failed myself again
I’ve failed all the previous versions of me,
All the lost children stumbling blind, all too aware,
Through this cascading useless life,
I’ve failed them all
Because of my broken commitment,
My unwanted divorce
To Suicide.
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