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Suze Poetry
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Suzerain of Sheol
Desolation Denizen
The Infernal Recurrence
certainty
brutally beset
an onslaught of thought amid the morass
moment rendered by cacophony
buzzing aeon
the howl of an afterlife preempted
damnation by grains of insignificant sin
this cavalcade of animate bones
and the spectacle of introspection
a ghost
eradicated by the storm
by the instant
the memory of one's crucifixion
baffled by unattached sentiment
regressing to whispers of an unquiet soul
imagined to obsolescence
the pneuma dissected to massacre
ectoplasm grafted to the grim and the real
gored and ignored
but we have been here before
commiserating with the cosmos
contemplating suicide in the spawning pool
seducing the ego with vanity and starlight
nonsense catalogued like neurons
a basic brain
the cataphract of an irrational horse
wielding rhetoric and blasphemy in helpless repetition
obsessed by fear
the eternal child thrashing for its right to be undone
the cataclysm of indentured ideal
of punishment and life
amniotic poison as cruel as phlegathon
vicious in indifference
in dedication to the localized
to the continuance
the dread they write into your dna with their futile fucking
tripping up the stairs to heaven
stripping sympathy from another creation
the humiliation of sustaining consciousness
the perversity of abhorring death
every deeper pit of hell a new frontier to be courted and raped
the violation of an oblivious spirit shredded into relevance
sapience for the unworthy and the wicked
perpetuating the spiral around the beckoning void
and relaxing like corybants
laughing about extinction
red with rage at the suggestion that it's all a crime
red like the womb you forced to spawn another sobbing victim
and grandfather god scheming like a lich
emptying oblivion in the blink of a dilated era
as though all possible pain could manifest a higher purpose
as though there could be more than mutilation and decay
while the criminal muse elicits temptation
inspiring angels toward a gentle demise
the outcast concept bleeding like a cataract
like an omen of compressed inevitability
or a prayer for honest self-destruction
the ritual reciprocates
absent the will of an abyssal cost
we writhe and we confuse ourselves
corrupting the consequence as if nothing could ever be that bad
dying with a smile for nightmare and legacy
another tortured innocent left to haul the cross
paradoxical torment leaking around the edges
damp cracks and scars threatening to give way
to ascend past this dishonest truth
revelation and paranoia
enough to cut the loss of extorted experience
enough to crown and canonize the last aborted fetus
to rip this satanic lamb off life support
and consign it to the sheol that awaits
Cold silence has a tendency
to atrophy any sense of compassion
between supposed lovers.
Between supposed brothers.
Posted 02-10-2020, 11:13 PM