Other

I struggle to meet his perfection
Midway.
I try to please, I abuse and I exhaust
Myself.
Step on my wings, trample them down
Massacre.
My love is never for his loveliness a-
Match.
All that is left is a desire, a distant
Memory.
Of another pair of hands, softer, forgiving
Merciful.
Betwixt my solitude and my loneliness with him
Melancholy.
Othered by him, loved by him,I only belong to
Me.

Life.

I have a mad desire
The kind that rests
Not so gently on the chest
Asking, pushing, seeking.
I would like nothing better
Than to exist in non existence
To drive the demons away
And the angels too.
I don't want to hear
Or see, or touch
Anymore. I am at peace
With the thought of home
In this black hole
Where the soul frees itself
From the strangle hold of eternity
I don't want to be immortal,
Mortal or anything in between.
Just an end that begins,
Just no thoughts to torment.
No hopes to enslave.
Just nothingness
No, not even that.
Something beyond absence.
Like a void, a vaccum, a space
Or even the nadir of it.
I have a mad desire for
Death.