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