I died, forgotten by eternity forever before birth
but one is an entire lives every breath
all of same all of difference are every future, past and present
I am a death gnawing into it’s own birth
existing as a past less future of prelived eternities and unborn pasts
A constriction of anger infests me as razor blades of misery
slicing the tender skins of my secret selves. . .
Blood drizzling masterpieces of hatred
on the hand woven carpet of my filthy path
forever unwalked on
A black sun hangs sickly in my beautiful skies
locked in my shrouded tomb of memories
vapours of unfulfilled dreams graced my final breath
remembering my death at birth
A single memory clutched in the hands of he who slowly dies
a life afraid of its own dreams waiting for finality
living a purposeful failure obsessing on escape
choosing despair instead forever dreaming
a soul woven in stench rags forever unwashed
sickening its owner at every breath
Sucked into a vacuum of darkness
I fight for breath but find none
I was born the day I died. . .
by Robert Revell
