on the subject of failure

stop.

seconds beat out such an infinitesmal cacophany through space and time.

incandescence softly blurs the shadows that draw the lines between this life and the nether.

why this place?!

hope eradicates itself in the sheer sterility.

life elegantly slips it's way through the softest fingertips
while the tears of the common passerby wash the landscape
into a bleak finality of existentialist nightmares.

and it was there i lay. dying.
stagnant.
such a repulsive creature in a worthless state.

and it was there, waiting to die in such soft light,
that i found myself faced with mine own thoughts in a parody of the abyss.

and then they come.
those wretches.
thieves.
liars.
murderers.

the blood we share curdles in my veins.

-blood the first-

"what wasted life!!
what abstract epiphany turned etherial damnation!

o flesh of my flesh!
o cursed wretch of mine womb!
what have i borne?!

in all my years of labor, in all my days of absolution,
never have i borne witness to an abomination of equals!

daily, i pray to whatever gods may be for
your putrid remains to be scourged from our presence.

the rancid abcess that fills the cavity in your skull
should have been drained and laid to rest long ago my wretched child.

whatever remains is not human.
nor is it any longer my offspring.
validity absolves itself in your presence.

cease from your useless leaching of life
and embrace the repose you so deserve!
dust to dust!"

despair. sweet. ever sweet despair.
when mine own bearer forsakes the fruit of her womb,
all is lost.

continue.

-blood the second-

"come now my son, enter the gates which house
the desparaged state you left so long ago.

enjoy the courtyard scenery, bitter son.
set your gaze upon the lovely gallows
your absentia has built.

look at them!

see the final ballads of your loved ones,
danglng to the most elegant of creaking sounds.

this is yours.
and yours alone.
let the stagnant rot of our shattered lives
seep it's way into every one of your pores.

let it nauseate everything that you are.
let it permeate your soul until you join us
in the vice of the tomb.
and under the willow that weeps her soul
to one that would only listen,
there will you be put to final rest.

so that we may bury all that may remain of us.

leave this place.
it is no longer yours.
the time has come for your debt to be paid.

may god have mercy on your forsaken soul, son.

we do not."

father! my father. why hast thou forsaken me?!
life seeps from my bones.
how much more shall i be made to bear?

life prose.

-blood the third-

"i will bear final witness.
your transgressions compound.
heaping burdens and debts that long for blood.

and these hands are ready to claim
all accounts receivable...
did you truly believe your treacheries would go unpunished?

do you consider yourself immune?!
you are the plague.
my plague.
our plague.

rotting souls decrepidly nestle in your eye sockets,
finding home as beggers at the gates of the blackness
that purports to call itself your soul.
you have destroyed me.

all that we built.
all that was to be burning.
it falls.
rising in ashes.
fueled by mine despair of that which
never even had the chance to be.

taken!
by the king of liars.
thieves.
murderers.
rapists.
you desparage the very existence of my being.

tears converge upon a river of exsanguination.
i have been bled dry!!
tonight the stars call for retribution in full...

darling, you are going to pay for what you have done to me.

dearly."

we lose all sense of self.
tonight we digress.
tonight the stars bleed their sorrows.
and i shall taste them evermore.