WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE SO DEATHLY —
that even the color blue cannot soothe you
that even a midnight epiphany cannot rouse you
that even my bag full of cherries & mouth spilling with nectar cannot wake you
that even a crescendo played by God himself cannot move you
that even the greenest grass cannot entice you
that even our future of sanguine days spent in paradise cannot rebirth hope in you
that even the niceties of humanity (—years of heartache ending in heart-building, and kindness past evil) cannot soften you
that even sweetness cannot get to you
;
that even a child's aguish cannot pierce you
that even a city's demise cannot stir you
that even the slaying of girl angels at the hands of an angry man cannot destroy you
that
that even hellfire's approach cannot frighten you
that even the draining of every single drop of blood flowing in your left and right ventricles in exchange for a venom as black as the darkest corner of your mind cannot hurt you
that even an examination of conscience cannot reveal your total ruination to you
that even lighting and thunder cannot strike you
that even sparks of hellfire excite you
that even you cannot stand you
that even being bad
sounds good to you?
YOU ARE READING
OPEN-BRAIN SURGERY
Poetryshoved a needle in my brain and now my head won't stop bleeding
