Vermis Meridiem

More Stars than There are

Month: August, 2014

The Only Drug.

“You love playing with that. You love playing with all your stuffed animals. You love your Mommy…your Daddy. You love your pajamas. You love everything, don’t ya? Yeah…But you know what, buddy? As you get older, some of the things you love, might not seem so special anymore. Like your Jack-in-a-Box. Maybe, you’ll realize that it’s just a piece of tin and a stuffed animal. And the older you get, the fewer things you really love. And by the time you get to my age, maybe it’s only one or two things—with me, I think it’s one.” 

                                                                                                                                                            —Staff Sergent William James speaking to his infant son. The Hurt Locker.

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Modern Gaze Span

We live in

A Lonely,

Loney

World.

 

We rarely

Pay Attention

To One

Another—

 

The times

We do,

We expect

Thrills,

Something-Something

Brief,

Something-Something

Inducing

High

Stimulus—

 

No room

For elaborate

Words,

Regardless of

However

Genuine

They might be

In their

Intents.

 

We only

Care

To See

The fragments—

 

Fragments like this,

Not tiring,

No sacrifices

Made—

Dry,

and

Convenient.

 

Only Human

There are moments

When goodness turns into malice

And fair intent sours.

During these brief moments,

I am

On occasions,

Crazed, eyes blood shot

On Thirst,

Bent on achieving not some,

But grudgingly

All the satisfactions.

 

So I turn to the Dark,

To the face of damnation.

And I see in the sinister

A terrible,

Irresistible

Force,

From which arises

The careless power

To quench my crooked needs—

 

To be the Golden Apple

Atop the highest pinnacle—

Divine, poisonous,

Rotten, and ageless;

Desired by all

And fatal—

 

Thus, I take a sip

From the deadly well.

And Soon,

I am overcome

By a restless adrenaline

Immense to the point of

Diabolical.

 

Suddenly, it is revealed to me

Just what a thrill it can be

To put on the Devil’s facade

And play the laughing wicked.

 

I decide to take to the slaughter,

And Oh!

How are they so belittled!

As if a gentle “tap,”

And they are torn apart!

 

Pleased—

Maniacally,

I move closer—

 

Seeing this lot,

These lambs to be butchered,

Standing and grazing there—

Mostly unwary;

Some a nuisance;

Some even vicious.

 

Yet

 

Regardless of the little good

And much foolishness I see,

They are all familiar,

All

More or less

Like me—

Undeniably human, limited,

And only so vile.

 

Then how could I strike down

The the ruthless sword

Knowing that I

Too am

Helplessly mortal

And bound to the ground?