Emptiness: a beginning and we are at war. That night we entered your womb; a deformed thing joined at the head: we would spit on you but you are dead and now I must drag your body; you are dead and I must sever your carcass from my skull.
Emptiness: an ending and I am your hostage; strapped to my seat, fearful, sweating, and terrified that I’m next.
Does this ecstasy of death include me?
I am death’s hostage; why does she ask me to join her when she cannot
say she wants me: when she will not give me the value of my life!
Who tallies the value of my life if not she?
Who is responsible for this relentless self-loathing?
You tell me I must love you as hatred seeps from your spirit into mine.
The pursuit of emptiness begins with the fabrication of a perfect lie,
honed to truth, and brutal in its deceptive honesty.
I must bear the humiliation of kneeling to beastliness.
Words and Text (c)Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved