A Thorn on a Rose for the King of Forgotten Roads

I know I've seen this all before.

Same gravel,

Same yellow lines

All leading to the wonderful abyss.

I've walked so many of these roads,

Time and time again,

Searching for paradise

Only to find hell.

The way home

Has long since past.

Seasons come and go

And the endless horizon

Swallows the swollen grey sky

Like a venomous serpent shackled

To the boundaries of time.

The sun plays the film projector

Revealing my memories;

Suffering me to be the witness

Of the screenplay of my sorrows.

It leaves me powerless

To the divinity of nature.

The beast and its beauty

Is the same creature

That has become manifest

Within her soul's

Perfect measurements.

The memories of her face,

They are a potent brew.

So sweet to the tongue,

Caressing my innards

With the scarred fingers

Of a love worth lusting for.

So numbing, the poison is not felt

Until the heart wilts

And my eyes drift,

Planting those sad seeds

Within the thirsty soil

Of a vast wasteland.

One of which the laws of control

Hold no sway

And the pendulum

That balances all

Breaks from the weight.

All this and more

Draws me to these roads.

Blackened and desolate

Like the pupils

My mother's god gave me.

Therefore my journey's repose

Will end, and I will continue

With no directions

Until the way has been lost

And the open earth,

A vicious predator,

Devours my body.

My bones will be ground

Into a fine dust

But my soul will smile,

For I will do my best

To clog the throat

Of the wretched behemoth.

With my remains

I will be a cold soar

On its gums

That will never cease

To spread throughout.

I will invade its blood

Tarnish the darkness

And claim the throne

Of despair for myself.

So as I can become

The pestilence that paves

The roads to nowhere

For all weary travelers

Bled dry by a single thorn

From the stem of Eden’s rose.

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