Rampage

Rushing Roaring Rebellious Rapids

Please note that I’ve used a specific word in this poem that you may consider vulgar.

The ghosts moved in a few years ago, haunting your soul, and now they’re haunting mine
I’ve watched you disappear into the catacombs of wretchedness
Dissolving into yourself, your thoughts like banshees screeching on bad acid
Your demons have stolen my tranquility, my sacred space
Left terror on my doorstep, howling at the keyhole
My insides twisted, gnarled… hellhounds circling, my spirit chewed up and eaten by this rabid plague –
It retches blood, splattering the walls like teardrops, my sorrow too deep for an ocean to hold
A slow, torturous death right in front of you
But you’re too occupied with your rage –
Holding it tight like a lover
Tasting it with your ravenous lips, caressing it with greedy fingers, entering it with a lascivious thrust…
To take notice of my anguish
How my pale spirit weeps
How it whispers the low, mournful ballad of despair
Disheartened visions of itself, somber, hopeless, exhaling your name upon its tomb; Sacrificed –
By your brutal need to burn, vaporize the shrill, deafening distortion, pollution, madhouse –
The mind fuck that flashes RED behind your combustible, deluded eyes
This meltdown into the pit of the damned… your solitary confinement… incarceration…
There aren’t enough tears to put out this fire
No begging, no pleading, no ideal apologies carved in blood, whimpered in agony, conjured through sorrow –

Expelled with a last breath

Will appease the demon you’ve become
You gorge on discontent, suck it down, rub it in your festering wounds
Agony an elixir; This bitter intoxication, writhing poetic justice, retribution unedited –
Has become your holy grail
Words and letters scattered in blood and ink, dripping off of pages, fading syllables of truths and lies
Penned in fury, bewilderment, ravishing sorrow. Atonement sewn into each fibrous page
This catharsis only a sabotage, a mirage that you will come to grieve, suffer during the Dead March
As the demons unleash a ravage of malice, extract the sweet from the aftermath
To turn it into sour
This massacre of your spirit
Has become the massacre of my own
Sentiments, affections are pointless when the bones have already been buried
And your eyes are vacant –
Emptied long ago, the crows too late to scavenge
Spring is the season of my discontent
You plow my carnage, till the clotted, toxic dirt and sow my suffering
The seeds need planting but I’m mangled, dying in pieces, strewn over this rotting, desolate landscape
You bring no water for my thirst, murder the sun to hoard your beloved darkness, and I wither, while
You write words that lure your mind into turmoil and your mind writes words that lure you into betrayal
Fractured, like a crumbling David, you fall in pieces into your miserable, illogical obsessions
Battered by raining nightmares, you writhe and lash, ride headfirst into the fumes on a snorting beast of torment
Ruptures of words, thick and heavy, contorted meanings, shape-shifting specters, contaminated assaults –
Damage what remains in your head
And I am left behind, alone to erase what I can’t see in the dust
I long to ease your brutalities with the soft shadings in my heart –
Turn these impotent tears into a rushing river; Wash away your misquoted humanity
Bring your fragrant dreams back to you
Return to your brilliant eyes the stars, wrapped in moon glow
Your pain has such depth that my bones shift and ache, leave me
Begging for breath, rest, shelter and visions of Times enduring healing, but you remain
Lost to me, to seasons, to the simple and sweet, to the loveliness of being, to the sacred… to yourself
You rampage


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4 Comments

  1. Vangati's avatar Watt says:

    Wow, this is so strong. You’ve dragged abuse to an entirely riveting direction, I’ve never read something so powerful.

    Like

    1. Fall Fraust's avatar Fall Fraust says:

      Are you trying to make me cry? 😛 Thank you, Watt. I’m not sure how to express how much your words mean to me. Thank you doesn’t seem enough. The feeling behind it needs to have its own word 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Vangati's avatar Watt says:

        Your excellence never seems to seize amazing me. Is it wrong that only bad feelings can draw out such powerful expression?

        Like

      2. Fall Fraust's avatar Fall Fraust says:

        Perhaps my mind works a bit strange. But having experienced countless, often bizarre tragedies has shaped my views into perceptions that many do not share. I can write happy and good, but I identify more with sorrowful and “bad.” So no… it isn’t wrong. According to my view, it is just different 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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