I'm not really all that mysterious

Rivalling Vogon Poetry

I quote The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy:

Vogon poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem “Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I Found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning” four of his audience died of internal hemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos is reported to have been “disappointed” by the poem’s reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his twelve-book epic entitled My Favorite Bathtime Gurgles when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save life and civilization, leaped straight up through his neck and throttled his brain.

Without further ado:

The Stone of Sisyphus

Forcing it will get you no where
Like hurling flesh headlong into the concrete
No matter how hard you mash, you still won’t pass through walls
Red meat, guts everywhere
Everytime you stick things back in
blood gushes, entrails spill

The mindless savagery of animals tearing at my heart
enraged by the scent of blood
and I am helpless
as they rend and they shred
rip my belly wide open

Give it enough time, even heart-crushing pain becomes part of the background
Like the blue sunlit sky and the dizzy red of mind-numbing agony
I reel

I have long given up on asking for mercy
whether there is a dead or merely deranged God
blood seeps from the corners of my mouth
the taste of cold iron (the end of all fairy tales)

I am a dying thing

Alone, lying in the desert waste
choking in the dust
burning bright sun
the smell of burnt meat
charred flesh

though my soul still wriggles
like a worm pierced by a metal hook

In this hour
before the Judas kiss
the music has faded
and all words fail
I stand stock-still and mute
even language having betrayed me
and everything I have given
still coming up short
missing the mark
there is only the falling
plummeting through empty space
I stopped screaming millenia ago
In the time ahead, I have no choice
but to rise again.

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