dysarthria

i can't quite feel myself lately. i can't associate with much of anything. sometimes, it seems as if i'm too fragile for this world, but my arrogance and idiocy makes me stand on the front lines of the battered field. i stand there as they fire weapons of mass-destruction. i stand there as they mock and taunt me. i stand there after everyone else has gone home, and i stand there because I'm too afraid to move. you have my full attention now. what are you going to do with me. if i survived all those years in the slaughterhouse and the inferno for nothing but this, then my torture has just begun. there is a place i used to go when i felt this low; a place where i could sail with the forbidden troops of envy and self mutilation. now, that place is up for sale, and i can only stare at it through signs of indecency and welted nerves. there is so much that i would like to say, but fear of my own sanity makes it impossible. i know that you do not accept me. i know that you fear my kind. i know that it is a lost cause, that the battle is already over. all that is left to do is clear the fields of the stiff bodies and go home to a world that despises social graces.

i used to float with angels in rich palaces. they would talk to me through cellos and trumpets made from clay. they used to pray with faithful hands interlaced. their innocence was what i admired the most; their lust for optimism and their desire for peace. not the kind that you find wholesale at the daily markets, or on the stock exchange, but the kind that can melt desolation with real ambition. the kind that makes you realize that god may indeed exist. the kind that i so desperately need at this moment.

the fragrance from her silk skin used to engulf me. it was like being locked in a warm, safe place where the vultures could not pick at my remains. yet, she disembarked the poetry scene and left me alone. alone, i could use that word to sum most of my life up, but my mind would not allow such a thing. it has to complicate matters. it has to analyze and embrace the possession of mad linguistics. jesus, i wish i could just fade away...

fade away into the mighty machines of solace and engraved epitaphs. fade away into the stories of lust i've read and heard about. fade away into the abyss of alcohol and petty blanketed veins of holy water. fade away into the darkness of night. fade away, fade away, like i used to do as a child, into the remnants of cool desert dreams.

forgive me for my weakness, my lack of daring and intellect. the monsters have me tonight, and they will not let me roam with mania. no, instead they scar me with their cheap wine and their televisions of false reality. those screens light the corridors of the sewers, and i fight to breathe fresh air, but it does not exist here in the ruins. here, there are only futile dreams and polished medals from relentless wars; trophies for the damned.

i just want to dance with you one last time before the end reaches us, before the lights go down, before the madness swells, and leaves me bitter. i just want to taste you again. i just want you. you, the narcissistic voice of mania. the father of dionysius, and the mother of dementia. i had only to look beyond the bay, to the right of the equinox, to find the cause of your suffering.

still, the darkness comes over me like a gutless current. it tears at my anatomy and makes me a coward. i can no longer face you. i can no longer hide from you. i can no longer be with you. i am truly sorry that life has taken us to a destination where there is no hope, but i have enjoyed watching you try to survive.

open the gates, and let me face the politicians, the demons of tasteless violence and lustful greed. the makers of the money machines. i'd cash in my claim if it were truly worth anything, but I'm well aware of the facade, the tedious brittle bones that we all try to maintain. i'd reassure you if there were reassurance to be had. however, tonight, the gates have closed, and we are alone; facing the faceless mask of dawn.

i forgive you for letting me pay the price. i forgive you for not letting me go slowly into the womb of infertile mothers and my own wanton desires. i am sure that if i had to do it all over again, i would get it right.

lest you forget, that i shall not, then this will be your defeat. so, let's move forward with the war. let's grab the iron cast and toss the troops into the fire. let's burn the bridges of communication, and continue to mindlessly develop intellectual depravation. i'm all for it. i've been waiting for several decades to watch you destroy yourself. the fact that you are so close to this destination brings me dubious amounts of pleasure.

i remember when freedom seemed like an obtainable goal, when i used to dream in color, and see past the confusion of economy. now, the sun shines on the wrong side of me, and my hands are numb. my mind deteriorating only reminds me of the sad state that i am in.

the defense of my peers is understandable, and the feelings of the martyrs exceptional. i hope that you can still find something worth fighting for. i hope that the madness has not taken you too.
desperate, i claim to the last flame from the candle. i watch as her gentle lips form the shape of darkness, and i let go of everything.

By Jeremy Gratton