I am the sudden hush in the room followed with knowing stares and contempt
I am that bloody Nigger Faggot that you piss on in the alleys
I am that filthy vile mass of flesh that hangs in the gallows for my great crimes against society
The albatross weighs heavy from my neck as I dig my own grave so that I and those like me can be buried and forgotten
My death should be torturous much like my life and my body left in the desert to be picked over by vultures and scorpions doing away with the evidence of my putrid existence
It started as a singularity but then grew to something more devastating eating away at all around it pillaging the innocences of life
And now it has claimed me victim as well
I teeter on the edge of the great void that threatens to pull me towards oblivion
And at times I fall in this bottomless pit where there’s no sound no light and the very little that can be heard are the screams that last for a fraction of a second before they are stifled in the suffocating silence
It draws me deeper toward the unfathomable crushing my feeble flesh pushing all life out of me as there is no return
The anguish is unimaginable beyond any sense of human reasoning or compassion
I am compelled to end myself rather than suffer the eternity of these slings and arrows
For even Angels can comprehend the need to end such torture
clothed in the inequities of the flesh near the frigid tumid rivers that ought not move
Naked among the shard of civilization I wonder what my hope for humanity meant or means
And I shiver and stutter a song of embrace Wishing for more than desperate longing Craving the affections of those who are not able to give to love the World As I once did
Please save me from this great indifference for if finds me hollow and dry Like the lonely cactus around which the children dance and sing With scars of life and indentureship to all that could’ve been
And I ask if there were more that I might have applied
Was it I that asked for most undeservèd destruction
Was it I? Was it I?
Was it I on dark nights in the streets of the deep lonely stars of South that begged for the reckoning of life
Was it I?
Among amber lights that yield caution I found myself lost in the litany of Thy presence wondering what I might have done
Did I not love enough Did I not live in a way that was of Thy order Did I not breathe the life that You breathe into the very rocks that hold still and cold
Was it I?
Was it I who failed to fulfill my duty when I proclaimed Here am I! Send me! Was it I who did not proclaim the joyous news the deliverance of all humanity
I once hoped for all to be with Thy Grace and now I feel as a small shell abandoned by its owner left on the frigid beaches of Pluto along the River Stix desperately longing for certainty hope direction
What purpose has this collision of inconsistencies I want the clarity of Your embrace But instead find a world full of entities whom mock and gleely jeer
I cannot begin to understand who I was who I am who I want to be
For that the fires burn eternally in Neptune’s deep waters Praying for the solemnity of air and the acknowledgment of the dark that now moves and breathes as the light
Was it I, dear Lord that brought death to my front door?
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