I am an island in this cesspool called history
I inhabit the crumpled remains of a place that
Once was...suffocating in a solitude so fulfilling
That the merest rendevous becomes a cruxifiction
A solitude more chaotic than war
A stoic who remains undaunted among the ruins
Of a world shattered into atoms
Some of us are borne weary of being born
Given the gift of life to live obsessed with d**h
We bury on our souls the corpses we have not
Yet murdered...like an angel dafted on to the
Back of a leper...a criminal saint...the hero of
Yesterday becomes the tyrant of tomorrow
Unless he crucifies himself today
The restlessness of sleepless nights dig trenches
Where the corpses of memory lay rotting
A crater of lucidity whispers...time...time
That slaughter house of the universe
Where is it not in the nature of a man who
Cannot k** himself to seek revenge against
Whatever enjoys existing