I Live in Your Grave

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
 

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