Gratifying the irrational.
Fear,
becomes sustenance.
Feeding off you.
Feeding off me
and making more.
Quiet the zombie tongue.
The one that seeks
to taste your flavor.
Internal dialogue
runs over and over
in your head,
in your heart.
You are every crime
the world has ever
committed.
Bitter and ashes
in your mouth,
with a taste of iron.
There is no way out.
Guilt will drive you
into the arms
of a fallen angel,
who’s been waiting
to accept you.
Known it all along.
We’re all yearning
for a savior,
just not one that makes us
take responsibility
for the wounds in the world.
So, we become
acolytes of fear,
councilors in paranoia.
Knowing the beginning
of the end
is close at hand.
We feed every piece
of ourselves
to the monster
that lurks in our own heads.
Tied
to the cycle.
Paralyzed,
as we watch it come around
again.
HG – 2022
