I am strangling my inner child with its own umbilical cord;
the bastard detached itself and tried to escape from me.
I suppose you can't blame his beautiful, innocent soul;
He's been forced to endure a nightmarish living environment --



Whether it was Cupid or Satan, no one knows for sure;
I violently awoke with a thick, barbed arrow shaft piercing my chest.
Gurgling blood, I desperately gasped for oxygen,
as the poison from its tip coursed through and engulfed my veins.

While I was partially paralyzed by the protruding projectile,
the gushing crimson of indulged emotion saturated my spirit.
Upon dislodging the thorny husk and shredding its passageway through my heart,
in homage to an old-fashioned and timeless way, I poured whiskey on the wound.

Prior to the infection which eventually enshrouded my mortal body,
I had already endured great tribulation on my path t'ward enlightenment.
My expelled multitudes of effort have clearly been for naught,
for now I am a raving, burning, chaotic casualty of love.



I have become a zombie of the night, sitting lonely and hungry in the love-seat.
The background is filled with the high-pitched radiation of television monotony --
Sandwiched between pornographic commercials of girls with skin-cancer futures,
are offensive advertisements for male enhancements and phone-sex lines.

I mull over masturbation, though I gave it up eons ago;
I waver in withstanding the endless waves targeting my weakness.
Music becomes my mission as I endeavor to mend my mind --
"Boredom besets me like pack of wild hounds on a bloody fox."

My every pore purges a pungent fragrance of passion;
the scent of our remembered sex speaks its sweet soliloquy.
My heart pounds erratically as I am enraptured by the emotion;
freeing myself of the frenzy of you is proving to be futile.



My eyes blacken, as I take on the shape of a demon.
Now, fully possessed, my soul has but one place left to go,
but I still cannot determine, of which is the greatest Hell:
not being with you, or being moved by you at all.

02/04/2010

Author's Note:
I had fun creating this specifically for Laurie Blum's and Joe Cramer's Valentine's Day (2010) contest. I entered it into the "Hell" subcategory, but, alas, it was ousted by this wonderful piece by Jennifer Ragan.

Posted on 02/04/2010
Copyright © 2024 Michael Smith