The contusions of remorse

Alas, (forlorn the elegiac sunrise)
Your morbid and evaporating breath filled the interior of the cold room,
Your scars ran parallel to the darkness leading you away from me,
There I gained bitter insight to the lonely nature,
Of an individual's pain transcending their form,

The cold light of a new morning danced about your head…
Like your own diadem of grotesque construction,
You said you felt apart from your flesh.
And there in the day broken anew upon these cold floorboards,
Blood ebbed around your delicate heels…

You rejoiced in torment…

And I found nothing within me with which to sustain you,
My hands bound by hesitance,
My lips left speechless, numbed and bloodied,
My words but an impure poetry,
In the wake of your deathly ascent,

I rejoined in your torment…

…Mourning black were the gathering clouds,
Waiting ominously, as if to receive your soul…

Your blood too looked black in the light of morning,
Your body not yet cold…
And your death already in vain,

Weeping was my crucifixion…
Your somnolent heart lay as a chapel to my disease,
About it ran rivulets of our tears now turned to stagnant streams,
Your cooling flesh the very architecture of divine anatomical catastrophe,
The arid shrine of detestation…
You had made your veins the strings for our funeral oration,

We had contorted our goodbyes…
With mouths formed like barren cunts,
We knew the way of sorrow…

For all our years enchained in misery
My mind had ill perceived the way of true salvation,
Thus entangled and submerged in such dubious matter,
And now finally absconding this sickening human condition,

I'm grown sick with the weight of this odious flesh,
This gift of being is an insipidity my heart longs to repulse
So let this newborn abattoir be subject to your reign,
A cathedral of death in thy name,

Take all this now from me.
Foulest burden of all known burdens,
My corpse shall carry with it these wounds…
…and a trail of drying tears
My withered eyes shall never again seek such affliction,
My lips shall never again strew fourth foul words of repent….

Now be gone… be gone…
Disentangle the flesh, the living sin we're entrapped in,
Now be gone… be gone…
Cleanse this putrid anatomy of being

Gladly failing to breathe, our blood drenched abandon
With wounds flowing so keenly
So cold redemptions coming slumber
Though this end is all we have to be thankful
We'll feed from the darkness falling over all that we see
But in the darkness that lives on within me…

Your face will remain...