Symmetrical Differences and The End

When obsidian glass in the colossal windows of the skyscrapers collapse,
And the once mighty structures of a mankind burdened with destinies unfulfilled
All begin to suffocate within the crippled hands of a nature that has turned on itself.
When those wonders of the underworld, naively birthed through these last few eras
Start to crease and shrivel, shedding their skin to become skeletal, bare, and vulnerable,
And when the life left becomes devolved into a new kind of evolved humanity,
Where “blood brothers” are no longer the sentiments of school boys tucked away and
Hidden in those backyard tree forts, endlessly scattered along the cold and distant streets
Of a picturesque suburbia The American Dream can no longer sustain nor wants to.
When this comes, her overcastted outline will still adumbrate itself in his empty alleyways.
Like the catacombs of Odessa entwined within rock, lonely with their partner Darkness,
She will dwell there, a penumbra of his catharsis, the end point to an unwanted maze.
With anime eyes and Ergo Proxy like mystery, she will placidly pillage the certainties
The ringlets of time have given to a self esteem forged by the most bitter of memories.
To make the uncertain the last great adventure a boy/man would ever want to endure.
She will be the parasite hosting a party for the mosaic moments held within his frame.
She'll slowly exodus the toxic hor d'oeuvres, causing a Diaspora all the guests can feel
As their sharp smiles shave off all comfortable placements that fit his untidy puzzle.

Though she lacks the physical, her presence will be felt in the cynical thoughts,
In the wasteland of a mental state he has manifested over the tedious years
In the stained bloodless heart, ensnared by jagged ribs, that once abolished
The slavery of tenderness, touch, companionship and all of its friends
In the legs that work to well, handicapping him with the obvious potential
That causes procrastination, and where to move forwards is to fall backwards.
She’ll be in the calloused hands that have caressed worthy skin only a few beautiful times.
Leaving the scars held without an architect to blueprint a half man whole.
She’ll be in the words dripping from his pen on the blank page, desolate of inspiration,
To be filled with lyrical landmasses as the syllables prepare for trade winds
Directing them to the new wave world where happiness is not flat and undeserving.
But spherical, where the end is the beginning, where masterpieces are made
And the proponents of parochial doubt wither and shrink in the possibility of it all
She’ll be there, waiting, broken and perfect, smiling with a frown, in wonderful decay
A princess of contradictions, an overpowering royalty that lacks a parliament of sanity
To govern his peasant mentality, oppressed by the fiefdom of his daily struggles.
A precious Gollum to make him remember whatever steps his misshapen feet may take
The pain that comes from the rocks beneath is the DNA that formed her image.

So let buildings tidal wave down to the unforgiving and wasteful earth
Let the sun diminish and play submissive to the eccentric light of the moon
Let the frigid winds blow away the monuments, idols, and accomplishments
Of a species, overplayed and mainstream, that has forgotten its complicated origins
Let Mr. Hicks find his Arizona Bay, sunbathe in the vacuum, and enjoy a brand new sea
Let cancer get the unfortunate diagnosis of cancer, be eaten away and disappear into history
Let history be forgotten, mistakes remade, disasters replayed and symmetry find its difference
And let him and her, anima and animus, be animated by the spectacle playing out before them
Walking hand in hand as the brimstone topples from a misrecollected and insecure sky
Let him know that what ever terrors and bewilderments this world can hold in its obese grasp,
Satisfactions and disappointments are the same side to the shiny coin resting in his dirty pocket
A monetary donation she is willing to dispense from her grace with more free will than freedom fries
And while all that was perfected dissipates under inevitability, her specter will hover inside
Masking the unforgiving truths from such an unreliable narrator as the surrounding reality
Though she is unattainable, given life by his subconscious, they are one, trying to decipher himself
That when he speaks, she questions, he feels, she pulls back, he falls, she goes further down.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For Bill Hicks

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