deepundergroundpoetry.com

Inferno

I sometimes look at myself and wonder
where have my wings gone to?
Once a pure girl in Heaven,
now lost to the devil.
Monday passes me by with
such burning inferno,
then Tuesday is close behind
with a lashing to the back.
Wednesday is on the tail end,
withering away in the shadow
of the previous day, then there
is Thursday where I tie a red
ribbon about the red fern. Friday,
the peacefulness fades and the silence
overwhelms, consumes, and beats what
might remain. Saturday, only a blink
and a heartbeat away from Friday.
Then Sunday, I pray to my God to be
heard, my screams are a razor to the
wrist. My shrinking violet dies.
These are my days, my days I live out
here in Hell. Where did you go, my father?
Christ, you've left me behind? Perhaps if
I die, I might find you again and be delivered
to the promised chill and comfort of the
clouds. Burning flesh and rotting hearts that
can no longer beat out the right tunes.
Inferno, inferno, inferno that is so sweet.
Like a cherry or an apple that has rotted and
is now shoved down my dried throat that cries
for the sea of your salvation, my God.
Jesus Christ, you are my suicide.
My Hell is found within your
embrace.