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Chris S.
Incendiary
Was it manifest destiny that brought us here…
standing toe to toe, not blinking or breathing or thinking?
Just waiting. And wondering.
Wondering which of us will break down and budge, the one to throw in the proverbial towel and squander the advantage of merely possessing the patience to mimic death and fill rooms with malice with a solemn countenance; a contemptuous half smile that makes average folks commit homicide.
Fight. Flight. Synaptic impulses that propel fear and revulsion into the minds of good and evil men alike? Which instinct will triumph and bring the world crashing down upon us in a thunderous cacophony of fists and words and poison spat from bitter hearts?
I burst like the fire that consumes whole villages and destroys families and communities and lives in third world countries that cannot fend for themselves in a never ending vicious cycle of apocalyptic predictions. With my pride I steal your heart, your security and your manhood, swiftly and without mercy. I am engulfed in the sound of your silence.
Distraught looks surround me as I stare on from the winners circle. I’ve spoken words so harsh and brutal that the participants of this game have ventured home to hang themselves in dark and desolate corners of attics and basements, content to die a lonely coward’s death. Ideas may not shatter human bones, but may cause death if laced with enough hateful rhetoric. Such as my words were like enriched uranium and my mind a weapon of mass destruction, anything that crosses the path of their reverberations risk battling a nuclear winter.
Tonight my psyche is a high caliber weapon and you brought a knife to a gun fight.
copyright Christopher Sweet 2006
OCTOBER 5TH
we sat next to each other on the sidewalk that night
toasting each other to the stars and the emptiness in out hearts.
you led me astray, little temptress, you led me to my hearts demise.
I can scream into the empty autumn sky, till my lungs collapse with
the poison I feed them everyday. nothing has changed and I'm afraid of the
dark.
the fog kisses me like the false pecks you've dealt to me in a never ending
hand of blackjack,
cursed to carry on till I am indeed gone.
razors are all I feel these days,
scrape away the flesh to expose my inner most thoughts of you.
everyone knows now, and I can no longer hide in the warmth of the darkness,
wake me to my bodies worst nightmare.
every sip takes me to the place between heaven and hell, and i certainly
don't know my place.
strike me down in my weakest hour, I am reborn every morning to the torment
of consciousness.
I'll crawl to the nearest hole in the ground, save you the trouble of
swallowing me whole.
let the earth cover me, and may the liquid overtake me,
I'll cut my wrists to devour the flow.
I sat in the park without you that night,
dreaming......
hoping......
for this day.
copyright Christopher Sweet 2006
pathos
It's morning now and light is born,
pushed from the loins of heaven
the alarm begins to scream and soon I join it.
Struggling.
Reality is choking me as I try desperately to unravel myself
from this ancient shroud in which I've slept.
Icy fingers grasp at my ankles, one less ounce of courage and they'll
succeed.
I leap from the bed and towards the safety of the door, stark and
ominous
it offers fortune or fear.
Toward the bathroom I run, where I can cough and cry and forget. I can
puke and shit
dreams that will never come to fruition.
The place where your remains lay dormant, unseeing.
Where you have been sepulchered beneath the old four legged bathtub.
I swallow and gaze. I'm sorry.
You ignored the sign
and fed my demons
I couldn't stop them
and now they've devoured you whole.
The alarm clock has stopped it's roar
I cannot.
© Christopher Sweet 2006
the malt liquor solution.
the nightmares continue.
the shattered bottles and broken hearts
mark the years events with cold, hard certainty.
waking life is torture compared to the sleeping
silence that encompasses our daily lives.
night after night.
dreams of daylight and hopes of fulfilled goals
are destroyed within moments of self doubt, burned
into memory banks like the shifting of the earth...
constantly.
I sleep like the winter.
frozen and hollow and scorning everything around me.
the quest for faith has left me sorrowful, bitter and
crazy as ever... the narcotics are wearing off.
opiates that numb the heart have me questioning my place
in this cycle because the answers have told me nothing but
the results always ring true.
I depart from the scene.
slumber unfurls its warm comforting grip to introduce me
to the terrors of humanity as the end of my days persistently
lurk around each and every corner. the demise of desire has
me laughing at myself and drinking my hope away.
I cry for eternity.
the world screams silently through the darkness only to
to find it's voice at the pinnacle of my madness.
I'll take this security and throw it back in the face of this mocking,
great void. I awake each day from one nightmare only to find another.
© Christopher Sweet 2006
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