Revelations

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A higher calling.
191 words
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Speak Jesus of divine vice,
of broken mirrors and burned out candles,
empty lighters and filthy liars.
Sealed vials of votive prescriptions:
not safe for the erudite eremite.

Baptized by blood,
embrace the darkness.
Martyr the misanthrope.
Black rope, black thorns, black crown.
Bleached black.
When did all the color leech to black?
Black out. Convulse.
Pray.

Trash on the floor, smut covered vanity.
Hear the gospel: copulate with insanity.
Broken speakers play in the key of twisted whisky.
Escalated anxiety. Refracted paranoia.
Escape heresy.
Cross yourself; cross your friends.
Cross the line.
Invisible lines, picket lines, snorted lines.
I'm fine.
I'm fine.

The scales tip with the bottle,
forgiveness eludes us,
say goodbye to the homegrown messiah.
A clean break from a scheduled life:
throw yourself onto the altar of decadence,
over the precipice.
Exodus.

Make out. Make up. Cover up the war.
Violence and seduction: the same coin.
Sell your sin and pocket the proceeds.
Empty the vial, cash out your medicine.
Counting cash. Counting rosary beads.
Counting on thinking,
counting on prayer and when that fails
counting on pills.
Have faith in the bottle:
divine oblivion awaits.

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  • COMMENTS
1 Comments
QuietScreamerQuietScreamerabout 5 years ago
Powerfully Dark

Some serious dark prose here. I'm reading this in 2019 and know this was written in '17. You haven't posted anything on this site since. I truly hope everything has been well for you and that you are OK. Hope to enjoy more of your amazing writing in the near future.

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