Long past due
One final note
Instead a long poem is at hand
Read roaming the country to every audience with her name on it
The way Milton chose his stage
Consider it one long story
Even the ghost light is dying
Because there is a devil in carnet
Nothing left but trouble
That blonde hair that always seemed more yellow
Behold the man, he is anxious, on the verge of cataclysmic demise
Skipping literary semantics
He put it blunt for a second
Told her she was a heartless piece of shit
A thing he felt to be just ruined pussy
Body pillaged with demonical graffiti
He had felt guilty about it
Was not proud of this
He’s fragile, panicked, and broken
On the precipice of ruin
The setting is a desert of darkness
Where the sun has gone out, every lover and friend a mirage
Considers sweating and shaking if there’s more cum than blood pumping
Quite aware this is his annihilation
But to think
If only they still burned the witch
He doesn’t think he’ll live through this
Welcomed her fangs
Snake bit
Couldn’t seem to get back to his feet
The venom ran deep inside his cowardice
Unbearable and terrible
Holding on to faith only to pray for Judgment day
And he was finally sure yeah he’d have that drink
She wanted a book dedicated to her
He means to name the whole thing Katie Lynn, Dead to Sin
A legend passed on
Malkina confessing her sexual acts to the priest
That it was all that they think, women
It becomes his complaint, his disdain
Everything wilting
While she never cared, made him feel useless
If heaven is a myth and this is it hell isn’t and she put him through it
To immortalize such a wretchedness
Seemed a great sin to him
In the long dark night of the soul there was nothing eternal
Even Eve didn’t live forever the way she desecrated the garden
She is her twin sister
Bonded kin just rattling along this desecration
All the whores trample the Earth
God give him an escape
Funny how she shared a name
With the villain from East of Eden
All south bound now
He’d teach young men cautionary tales about snares like that, to think she’d be in the same position
Lord help them
Worthy background checks would reveal she’d be the one to sleep with her students
Her cravings, leaves her silent and frozen
She made her seem less intimidating
Should’ve known the moment he met her
Just this derogatory feline spitting on everything
The worst can be said about him
All these bad beats and first kisses are the same
When you are consumed by fire everyone will be laughing and copulating
One big Bosch painting
Nothing but poisoned fruit
Satan’s ragged sluts
Plunged like public toilets
To watch the metamorphosis
Shown an inhumanity
That changed him
Will be there in the end
As people keep turning
Only to applaud this incoming suffering
Just watch, you’ll be skinned alive
There’s a reason no one stays
Shed, the snake will evolve, a body without identity
It was the longest summer he’d ever seen, everything burning
She turned and came for it all relentlessly
Questioning what he did wrong, what happened, begging for mercy
Losing hair, not getting much sleep, barely eating
The flood was coming and healing saves impossibilities
He would hang exit signs and north pointing arrows
Avoid them at all costs
The neglect and the abusive derangements
Promiscuous, hundred percent off hooker
Made a real Monk out of him never to speak another word to her in this bleak world
No spite all pity, but this was his loss and depletion
She speaks in tongues
He meant an analogy about that alley as a warning
Tread lightly, karmic circles dilate her murderous pupils
Made sick but he would probably still pray for this
From here on out he took his life back
To conduct the inevitable suicide
Along with his pride
Combatting leviathan
What a waste of time that he will never ever get back
For what it’s worth if she was dying he wouldn’t save her
He knew what he said and what was really meant
In contradictory seeking toward some closure
Failsafe words and insecurities
She is yours and she is ripe for the taking
Bow to the power
Fall to your knees
Beg to your serpents
Dead on your feet
Everything takes the shape of a gun held to his head patiently
The fuel gauge in his beater revealing even suicidal imagery
Did she find satisfaction in ruining his life?
Reduced and recovering shortchange
His hate for her
Will forever run true
She reminds him of surrendered cathedrals
All the terrible character’s embodied in her
What have we become?
He’s dying lonely and slowly
Makes him feel he’s pathetic for not leaving
Treated worse than a dog, disrespected, beat down, curb stomped
With nothing to do but throw his hands up
A lonesome defeat
In the face of devastation
She danced over his bones
Returning to the only thing she’s good for
Not having an understanding
Of having it ripped from under his feet
They used to premeditate things to talk to one another about, often writing them down
In those nervous days
Then she just stopped listening
How could it have been only fool’s gold?
He won’t remember her as an old friend
But a mortal enemy
That has shown him new philosophies of indecency
Body a living poster of anemia
Tranquil in the way of unlived given away comatose states
To her own meaningless life full of bodies and devoid of spirit
Footsteps among her own remains
She started over and found herself in a ditch
An addict of some other kind, it runs in the family
Funny how we steal our own lives and intents and purposes
Rendering this so-called journey useless, only one night stand conviction
Her father would be so proud
This wasteland full of stimulants and stillness
Here’s to suggesting the bullet
A lady from the past today
Cried when he told her about what she did
Said she could not believe
That he had not found a goddess
Being a catch
A mysterious man
She could not refuse
They were both confused
Something like 9/11 hearts
These mumbling aggressions
He told her he found the opposite and deserved it and quite honestly had the latter and vandalized it
Godlessness and wickedness
Those sick agitations
He hoped Denis was wrong
And it will all not be saved
A wedding at the wake
All they’d ever owned were endings
Wishing to hate it all away
Her grotesque heart and disillusionments
People incapable of guilt wreaking havoc
To be in her company, he wishes she took those suicide letters she wrote as a kid seriously
Which is obviously dramatism
To reduce these feelings upon a worthless trade
Entire generations spent busybodied happiness sex machines to feel alive
Found only ever in the heat of another man’s eyes
Just to see the demise
Her torpid skin
Reminiscence the parents
Who showed him how not to love
And to drink and be sick and never change
Everybody has absolutely lost it, save the date, doomed imbeciles
Educated him on where to forgive left only looking for deeds, each one a debt
Landed on a line
Honor thy mother and father
But it feels like witnessing something worse than true horror
Way beyond halfway to fiery lands of reckoning
Those two last names, his and hers
Will war in hell
Sitting isolated in that pub knowing that there just might not be anyone
Eating oysters alone in the corner of the room
Having just looked at the ocean again and wondering how he and it were both so blue
Sleeping that night under the pier waking to that loan ashy cloud swirling about the entire sky
Soft burnt smoky pink igniting cavities in bursts
A temporary peace washed over him, frail and unpromising
Something she’d been looking for falling back on what burdened her before
Rid of her for the first time
But never spared and it all came barreling back down again
Trying to formulate a solution to his own life
Bathed in red lights
Thinking about giving up women for a year
How this whole thing was her idea
And the futility to it she lay bare
Obliterated body, mind, and spirit
Disjointed from reality
Rendering her own growth impossible
He really thought this through
Particular with his words and flesh
She was the worst person he ever knew in this mass grave of catatonic states
The white knight has fallen
Ought to be ashamed
But he knows they wouldn't
Keeper of lost souls
Murdered a man
Gave him the shakes
At a time you wouldn’t believe, everybody just yelling
Blood on her hands
He’d make her a special project of his
Something like Yates did only more prescient
Their pulses are apocalyptic
Found a way to that fuck you money
It will cost him his pride he’s been fumbling
Hard to survive, he’d give the deed of it everything
He needs to get his honor back
Roaming those abandoned streets the other day backtracking to where he crossed her path felt like a dream state without fortification and incendiary
Something ominous conjured up, a lingering presence
Hunting wild beasts, it was all so bright
Everybody seemed pinned to that place in desperate plight
The people barely upright, frozen and aged a thousand years, deformed and plagued by illnesses
Their eyes were no longer committed to their own hearts or minds
If only he could go back in time and assassinate the man who fell for it
Dealing with her in every reoccurrence terrifies him of his own eternity
He never wanted the house and just needed the guillotine
Future on your back and trampling or in a grave, even the kids have such a fate
She has nothing to educate
The teacher with no books and without character or trade
Devoid of knowledge, without a name, wisdom only in flesh
Public school lampshade
Not far off from the active shooter
She might just be offered up to him
What she did, this was a rape
Let’s cut the theatrics here
This country is unwell
She is shameless, pathetic, gross, and evil
A graceful stupidity ambivalence
The summer the book came out no one cared
She saw the strife to the success every step
Only to diminish it and offer herself up like a conjuring
About as interesting as a slug
It’s why he came to just laugh at this
Even started to fall in love, but beyond that, an omen
Never again
He has become indifferent, it is dead, anything else is deception
Felt like battery acid in the brain
Everything from the stress and the pain
Like Marshal Mathers said
‘I hope you fucking burn in hell for this shit’
Never to wish death on anyone
Even those as vile and despicable
So here we are
This one probably shouldn’t publish
He has concluded this life
Over each heartbeat shows the uselessness of each one of you as he regresses to his big departure he’d only been evading
Spending time with other women
He knows the company she keeps ain’t better than him aware of his many deficiencies
What she deprived him of just being with one of them
Things to say, a maturity and intelligence, smooth to the touch
Not something integrated with
His innards all over the bedroom
Wouldn’t stop her from ceasing her cold dark cave
Lathering herself in it
This silhouette is something close to subhuman
He respects fascistic regimes more than
She’s taken deeper migrations even
To anyone reading this
Upon this literary sublunar ghetto
Wondering where he draws his inspiration
It is from a girl he once loved who devolved and died upon this great worldwide slippage
Walking amongst us
With magnificent sclerosis
Journey bound to any room
Wondering who is more self-destructive
This could have been different before she turned cruel
They could have done just as she said and been separate and he would come back to her
But she was senseless
Oblivious to what she’s done
Like a soldier taking on mortars or losing limbs crying out for his mother
She had him at last do the same, back into the eye of the storm and those draconian bluffs
This terrible entity has given him PTSD
That he is afraid only death can release
With the fear of the ultimate inevitable fate
Of seeing her again
Strong suspicion that he will continue to grow but this time these trials and tribulations feel unending and fatal
He’s scared to death and alone
Searching for a righteous path of nobility, decency, and honesty
Certain successes defined by maniacal neurotic laughing
Those looks, staring at him guffawing in all that grieving
Reminded of Trask doubling back in that book she says she loves but fails to understand or remember much from
He returns to the demon of her name, witness to her incorporeal being
Looking down on her deride
Like another writer once said
Evil can be laughed from existence
The windows down and the sun on his face
Driving away from her soon knowing what he will find if all roads led back to her
Her ordinary meagerness
She’d be just fine and multiplied
He leaves behind notes of freedom along those winding trails
Now commenced how long he’d be able to lie to himself
The labyrinth is hers
Turning, turning, turning
It is hers
Queen of the dark and the quiet
He still prays for her soul
Nobody does his own
May God forgive her
Because he just might won’t
Knowing his regret
Wishing he could just go back and change a few things
To pardon him of this dead love grief.
/
ANTHONY GEDELL writes from New Jersey publishing in Hobart, Poverty House, Variant, Revolution John, Punk Noir Magazine, and Bull. His debut novel, Love Lies in the Throes of Rhetoric, is slated for release soon with Michael Dolan at Winding Road Stories.
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