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this is all metaphorical. and it really sucks that ive got to tell that to you, you depthless hoes
04 October, 2014 © cesusjhrist
the world goes out by fire.
first an explosion; you’re knocked off your feet
onto hard concrete or sometimes your own bedroom floor
either way, the crash is hard enough to scrape some skin
and then the flames come, they lick you up
and the furniture catches ablaze and the sky is no longer blue
and there’s pain, flesh burning and dripping off your bones
senses heightened before they’re demolished
then a numbing sensation —
it begins at the sight of the infliction, or inflictions,
as if that part of you was sliced from the rest
hell, maybe it was
your intestines twist as you gasp for air, the scream-permeating air,
and you can’t scream yourself — you’ll shred your organs even more than they are
or worse: you already are
as the final breath pushes its way through your bleeding organs and your bruised skin,
you just think shit
and then there’s dark.
fuck that heading toward the light, fuck that life flashing before your eyes,
the world simply ends.
but you wake up: to singing birds and to patched-up intestines
a world that has no knowledge of what is to come that night
some may thank God for the second chance,
but you don’t so much as give him a glance
you’ve been sent to warn the world of its destruction,
the fire at the ending of the day
but how do you break such news?
how do you stop a fire that’s already started?
you can’t
so you simply live that one day in history, and then you die
but you wake up from the death
and your body heals from the callouses and the burns,
but you can’t figure out why
when it’ll all just happen again tomorrow
04 October, 2014 © cesusjhrist
the world goes out by fire.
first an explosion; you’re knocked off your feet
onto hard concrete or sometimes your own bedroom floor
either way, the crash is hard enough to scrape some skin
and then the flames come, they lick you up
and the furniture catches ablaze and the sky is no longer blue
and there’s pain, flesh burning and dripping off your bones
senses heightened before they’re demolished
then a numbing sensation —
it begins at the sight of the infliction, or inflictions,
as if that part of you was sliced from the rest
hell, maybe it was
your intestines twist as you gasp for air, the scream-permeating air,
and you can’t scream yourself — you’ll shred your organs even more than they are
or worse: you already are
as the final breath pushes its way through your bleeding organs and your bruised skin,
you just think shit
and then there’s dark.
fuck that heading toward the light, fuck that life flashing before your eyes,
the world simply ends.
but you wake up: to singing birds and to patched-up intestines
a world that has no knowledge of what is to come that night
some may thank God for the second chance,
but you don’t so much as give him a glance
you’ve been sent to warn the world of its destruction,
the fire at the ending of the day
but how do you break such news?
how do you stop a fire that’s already started?
you can’t
so you simply live that one day in history, and then you die
but you wake up from the death
and your body heals from the callouses and the burns,
but you can’t figure out why
when it’ll all just happen again tomorrow