The Strings of Infinity... in POETRY

Culled from a quagmire and placed in a grave, this is the game I have incessantly played.

A dreadful empiricism I’m reluctantly forced to engage, by the marionette master with a fistful of twine; she’s pulling the strings and advancing the time.

Losing track of my place on this earth; nostalgia itself is a crumpled hallucination of mirth.

Words st.a g..g.e.r
..... haphazardly
In a gravitational v o i d

There once was a voice; a boy… now muted in ice
His story I have forgotten; erased… seems more like

With no control over my actions, I’m presented (nay, heralded) to devils with pincers and spikes. Their tongues ooze lascivity, their eyes blackened in dislike.

Dangling like a bat in a world full of hate
Splayed in a play carved into my flesh
My brain is the meal devoured with vigor
Unable to scream with this shortness of breath

Stripped of all dignity, of all truth, of all life; left in this pit all day and all night. My body gorged of its muscle; ligaments in strips. The wounds are then salted, spit on and whipped.

Death is not dying, but trying to live
This… is the sin

The cretinous accusation, and means of my suffering

No one is there, no hand extended… the disease that is me is how I will end it.

Though my hands have been eaten
and my legs wrapped - in rusted barbed wire…
.
All I need
… … is to pray for the strength
… … … … … to endure just long enough

… so that I… may expire.

By: Jaye Eryk
Copyright ©2017