You opened the gate
Cut from the race
I picked up the blade
Severed from grace
All those tethers
Bound by feeling
The emptiness
Of your presence
No more goodbyes
The last of those ties
Undone
And the free man returns
To the way
Of his word
There needs to be more than a spark to start a fire for the flame needs fuel. Now the fuel you choose could become a blaze that consumes you or one that keeps you warm when the world turns cold. The right choice lays in the why you desire the flame in the first place.
It was the year of lost souls and the mercenary had just collected the fruit of his labour. At his feet lay a warm corpse still foaming at the mouth. Dead from a self inflicted prick of a needle and the push of a syringe pump. The dragon had taken his soul and left his scrawny remains on a filthy carpet, in a squalid flat, in what was supposed to be one of the better areas of Glasgow.
Above him stood an angel, cold, dark with an air of still menace. His constant stare prying for the slightest hint of life that may be left in his burden…
“A man walked in to a police station holding the severed head of his wife by the hair. He slammed it down on the main desk, looked one of the shocked officers straight in the eye and said: ‘Out of one prison and in to another! Guess I’m a creature of habit.’
He spent the rest of his life in a cell and never pronounced another word.”
A monk on a mountain
Detached from everything
Soon to be
Detached from life
Leaving behind
The flesh, the bone
And a word
Dream
Pop a pill and watch them die
No need to smile, no need to cry
One shot
One stabbed
Another fried
Who gives a shit
They played
They lied
This game has rules
You can’t defy
So be the life
They can’t deny
Just be…
One more dance
A familiar one
To come undone
By our own hands
We know the steps
Our last regrets
Our last confession
Takes the stand
The laws of nature
Brought us here
To confront fear
And brave the world
The great unknown
Still chills the bone
Yet deep in to it
We must be hurled
