Broken

Red voices bruise blackened shadows inside my head

and cracks appear 

on the surface of this disintegrating Earth,

revealing to me the nether world.

Sharp edged thoughts dissect
through open wounds a holy sun.

Like hot dunes of hovering sands 
and layers upon layers of fatal gas,

thoughts wreak havoc

destroying worlds within worlds.

Illumined beneath these thoughts,

fragmented, like explosions
burning the skies with fire, 

my blind soul glows like ember

till cracks appear on the surface,
broken like shards of glass,

leaving me out of breath from traumatic memories.

Ash rises from the deep.

Its taste spills onto my tongue like poison,
and all the love is lost to violent reflections.

Like shards of glass, I appear.

Enslaved with the spite of these thoughts 

and defeated by deceit. 

I despair, for this world is nothing but a lost cause.
Broken yet held together by misery.

When all life shall turn to dust before my eyes,

when fire ignites in the abysmal dark,

I will awake 

out of amnesia of the life speeding by.

For I am testament to vanishing gods.

For the gatekeepers of hell
have let demons pass
every now and then
to whisper omens into my sleep.

Who wrecks me with eternal war?

This coveted spirit like dark apocalypse
buries me alive,
chains my spirit down for memento mori

and shall never return again.

At dawn on green misty mountains

my rotting carcass pleases hellbound ravens, 

for the netherworld awaits its holy feast. 

When I was a child 

I felt evil lurking, 

for I was too close to sinners. So,

what am I doing here?

Why was I thrown into the fire of this world?
Why does this inferno torture my soul?

A cracking vessel in a river of fire,
like boiling blood running through the veins. 

Close to the sun,
I come crashing down
into your eyes,
like distant stars in the black of the night. 

Torn apart yet held in place, like shivering leaves

on a tree through which passes angry wind.

Where does this wind come from? 

It comes from there, I think.

The place I've been chasing all my life,

somewhere I belong.

But when I look at these shards of glass

that cause bruises inside my head,

deluded I reckon

these pieces are my own.