Darkest Poem

Tender I in rising be
Among the fields where humans are
Going about their merry ways
Uncaring of the consequences
Multiply do they
In abandon
Full of glee
For what they sow
Not so true
With what they reap

When I come to claim
What I am destined
To take
They scream and kick
Against the post
Imbibing in portions
All so useless
When the time comes
Nothing still my scythe
To pluck to cut or merely  take

I come not in my full splendour
I come within a simple whisper
Times up I say
And lead you away
I come with the roar of trucks
I come with the water bubbles
I come in induced dreams
In fiery conflagration
Indeed I come in many forms
But not the hooded scythed
Groaning figment most depicted.  
               

Growing up it was conjunction sumption ,rotten , and best gore.
Wild enough to churn the stomachs of my closest friends but not enough to scratch my itch.
Maybe not an itch but a giant void in the repetitive days I spend downloading the freshest smut to satisfy my urge.
It starts of slow with still frames and blurry images.
Then you graduate from 3 guys 1 hammer to isis beheadings.
Now when you show your friends they run to expel their lunch in your basement bathroom while you sit there and call them pussys.
They see the evil inside you growing before you even see any hatred in yourself.
Months go by and you’ve seen thousands of suicides, beheadings, and murders that even the messiest of them all has no affect on your internal being.  As you shop for your girlfriends birthday present at the mall you mind begins to wander.
Eric Harris and Dylan klebold visit your thoughts.  
Thoughts of tec9s and remingtons laying waste to columbine high school.
You think outloud...“I could do that in this mall”  
Suddenly you imagine stalking the pacific sunwear and footlocker with various firearms all fit for a warzone.  
Months go by and nothing changes....
You pick up the exhilarating hobby of sport shooting, slowly collecting weapons of death but calling them hobbies.
As you log back onto your favorite smut site for the 5th time today you realize there is no more to see.  
Days go by and nothing...
Nothing.....
Nothing....
Then something...
I can make my own custom tailored video to watch when i feel the need to gourge in gore.
Grabbing your go pro off your bike you strap it onto your chest.
“Just a quick video”
Unlocking the safe you find the weapon for the job..
“Ar15 .300 blackout with select fire trigger”
In a daze you find yourself sitting in the parking lot of that same mall you shopped at.
“What the fuxk!?”   Snapping out of it you return home to nothing.
Months go by and still nothing to watch,nothing to fill your need.
You haven’t taken your meds in 3 weeks now and it’s showing true.
Blackout.....
Nothing.....
Nothing....
Awaken...
 “ewww johnnie there’s a dead cat in the backyard get rid of it”
Washing your hands of what little life is left on them from your neighbors beloved pet.
Dig...
Dig...
Bury...
Blackout.....
Nothing ...
Nothing..
Awaken...
You hear the tv in the back room sound
“Local homeless man found dead”
“Oh my who could do such a thing” says your lover.
Opening your laptop to view fresh gore your joyed to see fresh content.
Fixated on the video playing you see a man beaten until death kisses his lips for the first and last time.
Watching the life leave his body as the camera zooms in.
Next to the expired being you notice familiar shoes onscreen.
Shoes your still wearing still stained with deep flavored blood.
As you look to see who posted the content your taken back to see it was you who posted the video.
“Fuckkkk” as you close your laptop down for the last time.
Dig...
Dig...
Dig...
Bury......
Laptop and shoes are swallowed once again from the ground it came from...
“This stays with me till death”
Months go by and nothing...
Nothing...
Nothing...
Blackout...
Nothing...
Nothing...
Awaken.. to a new laptop already logged into your old urges...
The evil has never stopped growing...
The hatred never grew...
Just the desire to make some videos to remember my years by...
Blackout..
Nothing...
Nothing...
Awaken....
screams of woman and children
You find yourself looking down the sights of a fully automatic weapon...
I can be who I want when I direct the film...
films aren’t real right?

Dreams arise like the sun on the horizon;
Tranquil memories only to be forgotten.
Cast ashore with no way to survive;
I’m stuck in the middle not dead or alive.
Reaching for the stars only to fail;
I’m so white that I can no longer be called pale.
Colorless as a ghost with skin as cold as ice;
My own mother can’t even look me in the eyes.
The feeling of disappointment deep within my soul;
Knowing I have to eventually let go.
Forgive and forget they always say;
If I had one wish it’d be to stay.
As time starts to run thin;
The heart monitor beebs and the tears begin.
Watching my mother cry is something I’ll never forget;
Leaving her in this world alone will be my only regret.
As Death comes to greet me I must leave behind;
The life that once was known as mine.

Creep in silence, morbid one,
creep in chaos, mindless fun.
Drag yourself along to me,
drag the chains you need not leave.
 
Stare ahead straight on to me
hardly a mind left to still see
how I enslave and you pursue  
to reach me when I call to you.
 
From the depths you resurrect
your crumbling bones as they infect
every creature you come upon,
but I am immune to all you bring on.
 
How I love your deadpan stare
I glow white before you there
in my stony earthen crypt
deeper than roots above that drip.
 
Bare your teeth to bite my flesh,
I'll fight back 'till there's nothing left.
You will lie twitching in the dust,
your strife will only feed my lust.
 
Knowing you at last, are mine
and never again will any one find
us to seperate us so,
my soul presses on with you in tow.
 
Oh, my lonely, morbid one,
killing you has been such fun.
 
    ......
 

Down the dark road, my addiction lives

I can’t seem to forget the address

It sits right there, in the back of my mind

Reminding me, of stolen time

Like the sands of an hourglass becoming grains of salt

The bitterness creates a mountain

Try as i may, i work with might

I wake up sweating on a sleepless night

My resolve is hardened, my fist a rock

I pray for a breakthrough

Don Zimmerman

4/1/2018

The world is falling apart.
Bombs whistling down,
Broken people
Never to be fixed.
None of it matters to me.
Right now, right here,
in this place
on the floor
As I sweat and struggle,
Arms grappling to grasp the body of my child –
my child in the body of a man,
a body whose strength nearly matches mine,
a body ready to strike,
a fist that has already punched me in the face,
a mind burning with panic and fury.

He hits me, I say.
It happens when he gets mad.
We are working on it.
There is help for that, she says, and sips her coffee.
You’re not alone.
Call this number.
Try this place.
They will help.
Not my husband, I say.
It’s my son.
Oh, she says. And then she is silent.
I am alone.

I know I’m not.
Not alone, that is.
There is help for that, and we have sought it.
Beyond the therapist’s office,
neighbor to neighbor, friend to friend,
full of shame,
I have whispered my story.
Sometimes I even find
the other mothers who fill their days
watching, waiting, wondering:
What will happen next?
Can I head off the next explosion?
Why didn’t I see this storm coming?
Is my baby safe in another room?
What is this doing to my middle child?
What kind of life is this?
Will I ever feel normal?
And most of all:
Why him, Hashem, why him?

These questions do not matter.
Right now, right here,
in this place
on the floor,
in a mist of sweat and tears,
with my arms around my child,
keeping him as safe as I can.
I hate you, he snarls, as I
pant with the effort of keeping him still.
I feel like you’re giving up on me.
Never, I reply. Never.