Stained Monochrome Wings

Gold-Encrusted Wings

12-22-15

Alarms blaring in the background

of an already noise-filled skull.

Repetitious thoughts screaming,

alluding to mental dissonance.

The future is black

like paint on my nails,

and the color of blood on my sharpened razor.

So take me out back and shoot.

The romanticization of my suicide.

Moonstruck by this cemetery inside my own mind!

How heartless, selfish, vacant I’ve become.

Bypassing the sine qua non of life,

I’ve made all my satisfactions disappear.

Nothing left to give me feelings of tenderness,

merriment or even slight gratification.

Things out of my control,

yet as authoritarian as I am,

the vulnerability seeps into these battered,

scathed butterfly wings

(Why - why more of this?)

Deteriorating once more,

seeming to continuously shatter.

The cracks no longer filled with gold;

it has faded back to monochrome.

The gold shone for quite awhile!

Once lighting the path for restless vagabonds,

now it harbors the decease of many souls.