Chromatic_Aberrant_V1

Silently suffering the gloomy obfuscation of my own ultimate destination
Bereft even of the familiar ground my aching soles tread upon in obligation
Afflicted with the perpetual glaucoma of my souls’ once-wandering eyes

Subtle sounds of tears hitting the floor; my very own percussive symphony
Cracking and grinding of bones crushed beneath my feet signal my arrival
You shant see what remains through the congealing fog of my own past sins

Having shunted the world from my back, I still feel the weight of your avarice
Wondering if you were content with what you stole from my weakened grasp
Recoiling at the thought of your empty expression upon seeing me concede

Waking up again to the unrelenting nightmare I have continued to flee from
Regretting the relinquishing of my imprisonment, longing for your return
Come back to what’s left of me, finish what you began that eternity ago

After all, you always said that I wasn’t ever going to be worth more

A faintly echoing chorus weaving between the droplets of the pouring rain, a crimson silk thread sewn effortlessly in the leathery webbing of your trembling fingers.

Seems as though you have lost what fragile grip you once desperately retained upon your rapidly crumbling sense of reality, only barely maintaining its enfeebled facade.

The sting of the needle pushing itself through your thin skin gives way to searing regret, cauterizing the shame that let flow the poorly-disguised reminiscing of past occurence.

Vein attempts at opening your eyelids no more than pointless fighting against delicately woven sutures left in place to hide from you the truth of your own overwrought resignation.

Each shimmering red stitch another magnifying glass held to every single minute detail plaguing your wretched attempt at a mask, assuredly incapable of deceiving even the most naive.

You wonder evermore why it is you must endure the multitude of sharpened needles swimming through your arteries, trivially parting the cancerous mass inbetween your skin and bones.

Unbecoming even of a repugnant tapestry woven of another reprobates carnal desire, you spend your wasted sconds yearning to be unwound at the visually faultless seams.

How utterly hollow beneath the ecclectic patchwork memories you insist upon purveying for those foolish enough to read upon your embroidered saga of pathological lies.

My wistful gazes at the bleak, empty horizon; an affluent plea pining for the divine
Staring upon the humble dawn, amber rays of light stretch gracefully across the sky
My weathered metal shackles no longer cling fervently to my emaciated wrists
Soft cotton sleeves cover my arms, sparing me the chilling caress of the breeze
Shedding my sins’ weight in tears left pooling in crimson puddles along the floor
Nights spent in anxious unrest repaid in the effervescence behind the dark curtains
The heavy fog around me is sour with the solemn, yet familiar taste of desiccation
A sweet aroma of honey and subtle notes of chamomile lingering faintly in the air
Scraping of metal and bone alike, slowly dragging my own rusted sarcophagus along
A worn pad of paper, pages folded in corners and well-decorated by purple ink
All stars in the night sky taunt my dull existence with their brightly shining decadence
Morning sun baptizing me in the glow of cathartic relief, cutting through the regrets

Cold and impartial, every minute imperfection in stone is it’s own self-aggrandizing tale of foolishness. Yet here I stand, my broken plastic hands welded to it, it’s biggest imperfection. Every step I take upon this visceral mountain is a testament to my idiocy, pushing forward; a promise unfulfilled.

Upon the bones of the meek I tread, the flakes scraped from my disfigured plastic body litter their desecrated remains; breaking beneath the insurmountable weight. The wretched grin carved into my featureless facade betrayed by the countless bloody tears I shed with every passing step.

Filled are my veins with the burning vitriol of generations, bubbling and sputtering from beneath my liquifying skin. My minds gentle disposition eclipsed by the screaming pain, drowning my pathetic, fleeting sentiments.

Yet I continue forward, each echoing footstep it’s own agonizing death knell. Little more than just another worthless corpse among many, yet further I press. A punishment worse than any other, a cruel and unjust sin bestowed upon my broken shoulders; the sin of hope.

My very name this cruel universe had cast away from the annals of history; forever having condemned me to suffer. I spend my days pushing and pulling up and down, never to find release in the completion of my task; inevitable failure plaguing my every minute of spitefully hopeful existence.

Even still you attempt to imagine me happy.

It has felt like eons I have spent drowning in the murky blackness of your scleras, desperately searching for the surface. Irides shining valiantly like the rays of sunlight piercing through the empty vacuum of space, bathing me in a fiery glow.
Reddened, irritated eyes solemnly stare back at me, apathetically gazing through the stinging of bitter tears destined to rain down upon me. Mundane shades of browns and greens meld together, a mossy forest floor surrounding an infinitely deep hole in the earth.
Eternity’s cold grasp feels like not but a breeze in your presence; sensing only the radiating warmth emanating through your wordless reassurance. Your pallid skin effortlessly bends even the ambient light to its will, almost iridescent in its gleaming reflection.
A melancholic grey pall swallows my vision, engulfing the few remaining colors that managed to permeate through the monochromatic haze. Scars and blemishes paint the leathery canvas that coats my worthless flesh, stained and weathered by a lifetime of mistakes left never to be rectified.
I can picture the quiet nights you spend listening to the rain pattering against the window, a regal violet coating the room surrounding you. Stars stretch forth across your ceiling, a dense nebula gently forming within the cosmic fabric of your dreams; birthing a beautiful new world of your own machination.
Endless sleepless nights spent in fear, the haunting spectres of my past swirling within the dark, their ominous smiles are burned into my cowardly consciousness. The barbed tendrils of panic grip tightly around my throat and chest, thorns gashing and tearing my pathetic skin; my hellish reality painted in blood upon my floor.
I yearn to one day see you in the reflection of the puddles left in the wake of a graceful storm, greeting me with a certain tender smile within the murk. I pledge to you that which I refuse to tell a soul, entrusting you with nothing less than the very end of my universe.
I only gleam the faintest of looks through the shattered bathroom mirror, peeking carefully through wandering cracks and dried up droplets of blood. I dare not speak a meager word in a voice I myself find no familiarity in, I cower and flee in the malicious uncertainty that follows behind every sentence.
She smiles even in the presence of no other, comfortable in the warm embrace of the adoration carried from times long-passed.
Laying alone in the dark, cowering from the vitriolic gaze of the eyes that stare back at me, hoping I survive until dawn.

Two barbed hooks punctured through my fragile skin, the sharpened metal barbs scraping and pulling at the strained muscles and constricted tendons in my shoulders. A cascade of blood pours from my open wounds, a wave of deep crimson spilling forth; swallowing me into its warm embrace. I can feel the tension building between both ends of the chains that confine me; cold and rusted, eons of degradation painted upon them in strokes of jagged rust. Tighter and tighter they pull away from each-other, stretching my body further and further apart, my muscles slowly straining with each passing moment.

My bones creaking and twisting, cracking until the splinters begin digging into my vulnerable flesh. My mouth is completely empty, teeth forcefully pulled, nerves forced to be exposed to the open air. My tongue has been violently cut out and ripped from my filthy gullet, leaving only severed pieces dangling in the back of my throat. My eyes are seemingly blind, yet I can see myself through the eyes of darkness; naked and alone, hanging suspended only by the hooks hanging from above. You can only imagine how disgusting I was, my wretched form prostrated through the profane light of midnight.

I feel the pressure build and build as the chains pull harder opposite to one another, my ribcage beginning to slowly break in two. I can feel my muscles slowly give way, each strand snapping one by one, their frayed fibers finally released from their torturous suspension. The stretched skin of my esophagus has begun tearing in twain, my blood spurting violently from each perforated inch. I muster not a sound as my body is torn apart, the snapping of my bones and the squelching of my stretched muscles a morbid symphony of deaths triumphant release.

As the chains violently recoil from the real easing force, I can feel my head plunge into the depths below, separated by the pieces I had once known as my own sit hanging limply from the hooks. Despite the horrid spectacle I had seen, I have not yet felt a single twinge of pain. That sweet release of tension was oh so euphoric in its fleeting pleasures, my mind racing with excitement and anxious panic alike. My head feels only the chilling breeze as it falls endlessly back into the dark, its tendrils wrap thoroughly around my skull, pulling me deeper and deeper into the gloom. The pleasure melting away into crippling despair, the abyss swiftly worms its way deep into my fading consciousness.

It gently pulls me back in, wordlessly urging me to return to where I truly belong.

A lone corpse resting against an ancient tree, a knight felled many moons ago, his oxidized armor coated in dried blood and overgrowth. A broken sword lay beside him, an armament fit for that of a broken knight; battered and rusted by the uncaring passage of time. Was he once a chivalrous man? Oh so righteous in his disposition, armor wrought of the strongest steel; a glorious spectacle to the layman. Perhaps a valiant hero of which legends are told?

What say him? Little more than the whistling of the breeze through the slots on his helm can be heard, the voice of the elements staking their claim upon his visage. A beautiful tune it sings, the soothing drones weaving their way through the wilds; a disparate somber lullaby for the slumbering flora. The golden crucifix wrapped around his decayed, skeletal fingers tarnished; it’s shine reduced to that of an ever faint glimmer in the morning sun. Perhaps a legendary warrior full of vigor and determination, stricken down in his prime? Maybe a man with a heart full of purpose, ready to lay his life down for those he loved? A thousand possibilities befitting of his facade, one may wonder what his name might’ve been; or how he ended up in such a place. As glorious and beautiful as he may have looked in life, all that remains is that of another piece of the land; nestled within mother natures embracing bosom. He looks but to the sky; an unheard call for help? A heartfelt prayer to his supposed creator? A lament of his failed crusade? A befuddling mystery, left never to be deciphered.

By his lonesome he sits, watching the suns set and the moons rise, the cosmic bodies dying and being reborn; night after night. He’s beheld more beauty than a living man ever could, gazing forever into the deep astral abyss of the night and basking in the majesty of the sun. Such a lonely way to spend an eternity, forever yet filled with the gentle love of the earth. The grey clouds begin to roll in, encapsulating the land in a dark shadow; the rains beginning to fall upon the land. Cold droplets plink off his helm, streaking down its face, as if he himself weeps for something forever to remain unspoken. Bright veins of lightning pierce the sky, it’s violently roaring thunder soon to follow, as if demanding the world to listen. A blinding light fills the air, a bolt of lightning striking the old metallic suit of armor, lighting the firmly attached roots aflame. Burning bright amongst the rain, as if to spite the storm itself, he burns brighter than the beams of the sun. Fire begins to pour out of the armor, what once were his eyes spark as if he had finally reawakened from his deep sleep. Stirring in the wind, his feeble body begins to move, taking to his feet, gently arising from his resting place. After returning to his feet he slowly begins to walk, each step a testament to his unknown legacy. His brittle bones being baked within their confines, slowly charring and flaking. Ash being blown away within the rough winds, what remains of his corporeal form being whisked away into the skies. Small embers ignite the damp land beneath his feet, burning bright with the flames of conviction; one step after another, slowly dissipating into billows of smoke.

A soft clanking sound is all that is heard within the storm, the suit of armor falling to the ground; emptier than the clearing upon which it now resides. The vicious fire finally succumbing to the barrage of water falling from the clouds, slowly it fades. A faint light emanates from the helmet, it’s tenacious orange glow shining through the grey mists of the storm. The fledgling flame slowly sputters out, as if bidding a final farewell. The clouds disperse in time, and the land returns yet again to its tranquil silence. A small sapling begins to sprout from the charred remains of that suit of armor, destined to join the ranks of the many trees around it.

Yet another addition to a forest of fallen heroes.

My eyes slowly come into focus as thunder crashes down in the distance, its muffled roar echoing through the barren horizon. The pale illumination of the street lights blanket the ground, the gentle glow creeping across the well-worn pavement. The rain drops heavily from the awning of the bus-stop I sit in, the old rusted metal embracing me, repelling the ever-irreverent rain. I sit alone, my only fleeting company the frantic moths fluttering around the fluorescent light flickering above my head, desperately reaching for the radiant sun of their futile desire. Through the curtain of darkened clouds and pouring rain the light of the lightning bolts projecting through the gloom; bathing me in a sea of white, their thunderous encore rending me back to cognizance; where exactly was it I was going again?

The raindrops’ somber song is slowly overtaken by the ringing in my ears, the piercing cacophony of shrill screams were the duetting siren songs of shame and despair. Flickering static slowly engulfs the corners of my vision, painful pressure firmly constricting my head until it radiates and throbs with pain. The last thing I see is my pale, shaking hands amidst a backdrop of abyssal silhouettes. My legs now slowly being swallowed by the puddles of water forming at my feet, their ripples distorting and tearing apart my meager reflection. The cold, watery tendrils of the dark slowly slither across my numbed body; reaching slowly into my eyes and mouth, tightly closing my throat and firmly pressing on my eyes.

Empty instinctual resignation is all that fills my mind, my eyes slowly giving way and exploding forth, the void scrambling to fill the now vacant sockets. I can feel my lungs constricting, thrashing and pulsating, my nerves helplessly screaming for release. I squirm and I writhe like the insignificant insect I am, unable to scream or plead for help; I yearn for the finality of death, condemned to this agonizing eternity of desperate suffering. Suddenly, violently wrenched back to reality; I can see the headlights from behind my eyelids, slowly arising from the bleak horizon. I open my eyes, the rain had stopped; the inky black puddles a disparate testament to its past existence.

No longer did the boisterous cracking of thunder nor the glorious display of its bright catalyst fill the grey skies in the distance. Everything was still, even the swarm of moths had taken leave from the quietly humming fluorescent lights above. The serenade of the silent night gently lulls me back to contentedness. The headlights rapidly approaching leave me no time to dwell on the nightmare I had fallen into. The silence of the calm night ushering me to my feet to greet the approaching lights. It’s radiant glow drowning out my anxious thoughts with delicate assurance.

I still don’t remember where I was going, but I’d rather be anywhere but here…

We always shared passing glances, his eyes affixed to mine, a somber emptiness shining within his pupils. I can’t recall a time before we had seen one another; never sharing more than passing glances, desperately attempting to avoid the extended awkward silences. Sometimes I glance at his face, my eyes scanning over every slight imperfection in his leathery tanned skin; the many hours spent in the sun etched in every wrinkle and freckle. I could feel the tears running from his bloodshot eyes and down his cheeks, cold as a bitter winters day.

I looked down at his large hands gripping the edge of the countertop, his crooked and calloused fingers trembling. He gingerly reaches toward me with one hand, our fingers meeting at the tips. Not a word left our mouths, our thoughts and innermost melancholy intimately intertwining in the vacuum of festering quiet. My gaze reaches into the blackened soul housed within his pupils, swimming throughout the pall of bitter regret and nightmares. I hear my voice echoing through his ears and in his fractured mind, cutting through the vicious denigration and pitiful reassurances; no more dull than the blade he had grown used to seeking relief from.

He raises his maddened eyes to meet with mine, his other hand reaching for his face, his ragged nails digging firmly into his skin, streams of blood begin pouring down his face. He stares at me vacantly, his dissociative daze unbroken as the skin of his face slowly peels away with each violent clawing motion. Tightly strung Muscle and flaking skin giving way to the fervent attack; through the errant pieces of skin and clotted blood I can finally see what really hides beneath.

My violently marred face staring back at me through his gaping wounds.