The Killing Party

Like a white-hot wave of anger, of dust,

I feel this pain without any relent.

As though someone close hath broken my trust

I feel all my strength, all my resolve, it is spent.


With a dead-eyed stare and limping forth,

I cannot tell you why I flounder.

For if I knew, why should I mourn?

My confusion could be no sounder.


Yet stoic and silent my desperation doth reign,

In a cloudy fog lay my heart, all my burdens.

Without hope, without effort, I gaze with disdain,

Nothing now, in this time, can be certain.


An ache doth protrude from the chasm my chest,

Where once lay a molten gold river.

We e’er laugh with cold eyes though none doth jest,

Because in the silence devoid feel we agony’s shiver.


Breathe doth we slowly, for none here can fathom,

What hath come for us now from the night.

With voided smiles we collapse to the chasms,

Where once lived our hearts and their light.


Breaking in quiet, and snap!- like a whip,

Everything once we felt is a roar.

From psychosis the nectar we sip,

While Hades the palace we tour.


Laughing, unblinking, with smiles like the moon,

Our skies long since have fallen black.

Our mechanical faces shall need oil soon,

Lest we crumble despite- lest now, we go back.


Clink! There’s the toast,

And our souls shiver still.

A fake jubilee, a ridiculous boast,

And we laugh as we weep as we kill.


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