There are ideas emblazoned in my soul that I want ousted;
a coup d'etat of reckless thoughts;
a Napoleonic triumph over the demons that clutter my mind.
My heart is heavy with the iron of broken horseshoes.
Sometimes I wonder if what I thought was real could ever be less ephemeral.
Everything is blurred.
My eyes burn from the ashes of a razed past that has been violently flung at me.
I weep for my fallen memories buried in a blanket of still-smoldering embers.
I toil to unhook the harpoons of betrayal lodged deep within my breast.
Is this just?
Is this fair?
Show me my sins that I may accept this suffering.
This wretched beast upon my shoulders sits,
claws firmly embedded within my skin.
I wrestle to cast it off, yet it simply rips my flesh and digs deeper.
I exercise my ever so convenient poetic license to tell you all
that there are no vocubularic gymnasticisms that can adequately summarise the turmoil within.
It is a volcanic mess of tangled illusions,
the searing lava coursing through my already frayed veins.
I yearn to cry out, but everything coherent sticks in my throat.
I yearn to rend myself upon a bed of nails, but cowardice stays my feet.
I yearn to devour the universe that surrounds me
but I can only hope that something more powerful than I will grant me that wish.
I take these words as a dagger.
May they in me find a sheath.
"There rest and let me die.”
