Fortress

The brittle emptiness I feel is fathomless.
Grey as the turbulent shroud of Autumn.
Even the warmth of her beauty cannot melt these glacial tears;
As the cold hand of history permeates my splintered soul.

Blistering memories seared in the furnace of denial,
Plaguing my thoughts like phantoms on a dying sun.
The truth that burns like the molten flow of iron,
Is forged for a rendezvous with the devil.

The shrapnel of childhood adversity
Still ricochets through dystopian dreams of destruction,
Pillaging my desire in stone temples of perversion;
Walled off from love inside a fortress of solitude.

I am a fugitive from the remnants of tragedy,
Chasing my shadow through a conflagration of pain.
Sucked into an impenetrable void of self-loathing.
Impervious to the elixir of love.