Each one a Tombstone, each one a Ghost

I stare at a field of tombstones, each an ever blurred reflection of the men I have been

I see the black marsh of sorrow expanding to lifeless seas, a place beneath the deathly quiet waters to look at the world as it should be, a space amongst the flowers for a single black rose to grow, a barbed ring of petals to make the lifeless bleed

The grave lays open before me, lined with each thorn of an opportunity missed, dug with shovels manned by opportunities that have failed to bloom positive fruit, after that the ghosts are waiting to take back the unfeeling smiles I stole to fake the humanity I never truly felt, an actor in each public moment to make the happy unburdened in their states of merry, ignorant rest

The inscription is diamond etched and sings a tone of regretful mourning, to tears all else might retreat but I am left unmoved in emotionless prisons, thy name is less a word of meaning than a collection of letters to spell my lies, the mistruths of deception cloaking from loved ones all that I actually was

I stand before the tombstones, each a reflection of the delusions I did project, the one that screams in epic absence as a slab of mirrored marble is missing in the crowd, that one which spells the riddle of who I really am to those twisted enough to recite the language of the damned

The black marsh of sorrow hides the bodies of flesh I wear to walk the seas of silence, from the concealed depths red eyes hungrily look up, my true nature waiting to reclaim all that exists above it by harvesting the illusions I pretend to master, the false love I harvest to feed the destructive beast

Each illusive vision has a slither, a slight edge of truth, when combined she will see me whole and I fear the creature that will make its form before her, for underneath generosity and goodness I am the demon that protects, protects not me from the world around us, but the one spark of hope that corrupts the negative sub cultures of my nature, shattered and broke

So bid farewell in words of tearful emotion

Laugh a humour as dark as my hidden depths

Or drink in silence and think of the saddening loss

But know I will there, deciding which grave to take, which name to mark my final rest, any but the one the beast gave me in his cruel attempt at a joke


2 thoughts on “Each one a Tombstone, each one a Ghost

    • I started writing a book, turned into a universe!
      I’ve got so many strands to pull on and explore, just lack the focus at the moment
      One day though
      ‘Devil and damned territory’ and ‘The choice’ are an experiment in short stories, got their own tags on my category list

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