A faceless monster reflecting my own image descends upon my conscience.
A no name wastrel, my own reflection devours my flesh like a serpent.
An unsung lonely wanderer dies inevitably within the solace-
the FBI gather like a black fog among the silent night-
the silence of mankind is inevitable, the same-
because the fate of it all, is to become your fate, and your fate is to hand over, you and your memories-
to your own solace.
You are the awakening vessel amidst your foggy burrows. You are the depths of your own mind. How deep you fall into yourself.
You are the spiraling tunnel at the end of the greatest tunnel. You are the lonely man, women, child-
sent to die from either aging, being slain, or other-
you are your mother. Your son, and your brother. You are your escape, your caged, your imprisoned.
You are your artwork, painted in blood on a skin-shaped canvas, you are the meat you eat. You are the decaying thoughts adrift.
You are the inspiration you forgot, you are the past. The present. The future. You are the sins, you are the blessings. You are the house you stay, and the key for a prison’s way out.
You are the agents, the detectives merely follow themselves.
You are the entering of the beautiful gates to heaven.
Or you are at the gates of hell.
Poem Meaning: You are what you choose to be.
And your fate is forever followed by your choices.
Copyright January 2, 2018