(image by Pablo Picasso)
If there is anyone out there who listens,
Anyone who cares, who has the power to
Move moons and stars, gods or demons,
Makes no difference at this point in time,
Please listen to my imploration, to my plea.
Pull, seize, suck this love from within.
Extract it from the marrow of my bones,
Burn it from the retina of my eyes,
Block it from the spidery highway of my brain.
Free me from this hunger, this need,
This thirst of him, his presence, my drug,
My destruction, my broken bridge
Over twin cliffs.
I have lost my shame, my name, myself.
I have dragged my pride through the mud
To lick his feet. Everything I have thrown
To the winds to follow him to the
Darkness of his soul, to the cavern of his
Heart’s obliteration. He touches me, pushes me,
Calls me, ignores me, caresses me, denies
Me the warmth of his skin. He weeps
My name amid his desperation;
He spits at my face in his feverish rants.
He loves me, he hates me, he needs me,
He looks at me with despise.
He is the wind and the sea to
My sailboat with no pilot.
He is the fog to my night sky,
Hiding the guidance of the stars.
He feeds the seed and crushes the flower.
I cannot save him. No one can.
I am not his angel in disguise,
His muse, his last chance.
I have tried. With all my faith,
All my strength, everything I am
I have lie down for him to
Find the light and be unchained
From the hell between his ribs.
And he clings and bites and drains
Life from my existence.
I am just another rotting walker
In his zombie apocalypse,
The nameless crewman who
Will die before the film is halfway.
I am collateral damage to his
Rage, his revenge against the world.
And this love, this curse, this
Death-wish that ties me to him
Has me mummified. I cannot run,
Cannot fight, I see pieces of myself
Fall away like stone leaves from
A decayed temple and I don’t know
How to stop it, where to run,
How long will I hold on before I
Get lost in his labyrinth -no Ariadne’s
Thread for me, no Icarus’ wax wings.
And the Minotaur bellows, thunders,
Rumbles as he runs towards me,
His horns scraping the narrow halls,
My back against the wall.
And I pray. To demons and gods alike,
To save my hide or make quick the end ,
To save my spirit, spirit me away,
Show mercy, have pity at my stupidity,
My weakness, my fear,
Hear my screams as he comes closer,
My howls, my knees humbled to the ground,
The horns an inch away from
From the crystals of my tears,
And I tremble and I cry -shriek,
As he brands me with the acid, burning
Tip of the steel rod he calls his love.
And then I know.
There are no demons.
There are no gods.
There is just him.
And my soul’s Armageddon.