The Juvermeinx: Confessions

I can feel it winding in from the outside. That cold stream, curdling with hell’s feces en route to pollute me in my denial. Moses on his soap box from God, come to cast me as a curse- Pharoah is to be made an example of, but he is to still be pitied for it is not entirely his fault. He is not the mechanism of his destruction.

I am.

In brightest day and darkest night, I feign evil must needs take flight, but woe the dawn of winter’s summer light, when damnable Plague gapes merciless jaws in unyielding bite!

I am not the hero… I just wear his cape. Make no mistake, no mistake has been made, it’s a tin raid on the roadway to give your heart back to you before you realize who took it. To steer you back to life in the woods, before yellow brick roads become your undoing. The only redemption in daring adventure is to the listener who camps ‘neath the firelight of misguided ambition… immunity to ammunition assertively ascertained by freedom to disregard fairytales as laughable children’s institution.

So you see, though I be yet healing, I am also their pollution.

An unending loop of unimpressive death. Through lips sealed like the societal tomb they bury themselves in, I suffer strangulation even as I choke. Or through yawning maw, and jaguar claws with an artful dodge I steer them towards the mirror. Not to behold themselves, but to see through it… to catch the faint glimpse of the One Life the rest of us are reflecting multitudinously.

That cold, lifeless stream passes me by… eagerly racing ’round mountain’s bend to engrave its sepulchral signature on my cenotaph… proof that this life is the final escape from the truth which is inescapable.

In a world obsessed with a Goodness void of God, I am the plague… or perhaps such loftiness of observation is undue for one of my position.

I am Plague.
I am alone.
This is the way it must be.

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Almost Made It

It’s like someone played the wrong chord on a vital organ… now I can hear the rising score morphin and taking over. Taking over the senses it connects to, it connects four because the clouded eyes behind these glasses are pourin.

Somewhere, in a garden hidden inside a forest, a flower falls…

A hitch in the step of sunrise, not strong enough to break into dawn, the darkness of the void is granted more time. Unintended benevolence, ignorant of what’s ahead of us, fishin for love with negligence, forfeiting our inheritance, trying to attain a better trust. Empty handed in the end, facial expression incredulous.

Like a roll of thunder, the flower crashes powerfully to the ground…

The bees lose passion for their honey… Badgers crawl from the cracks and crevices to lie dejectedly on the sand… the deer come down from the hills… Butterflies self identify with the cocoon… there are tear drops on the leaf tips. The dew of a morning that will either never come, or never cease. It’s only Tuesday, but the pews are already filled again. Completely unsure of what to pray, just aware that there’s a fresh crack inside and they don’t know how to fix it.

The broken flower rolls, idly, across the ground… slowly losing life yet captured in the twilight of ineffable beauty… there is no redemption in this- and even if there was, it’d be unnecessary.

Every petal isn’t meant to be saved.

Insomnia

Parallax.

Paralytic vision converter verging on the edge of mended delusion. A rose softly dropping it’s three petals like a roll of silent thunder, because you lacked the  vantage to see the lingering fourth.

Passive aggressive in its active nature, every tree refuses to violate the horizon. Dawn rebels, tired of the earth’s cyclical self, shelving the responsibilities of time management and begrudgingly nudging forever off into eternity.

It’s a cosmic rip, like the moon harpooning your mama’s ceiling and doing lunar things to her while you are sleeping, it makes me sick.

The night sky is the eternal Judas.
The march of time is the wisest clueless.

And my contrite mind stays awake to tune in.

The Juvermeinx

I have decided to have nothing more to do with them.

I will leave them to rot in the chaotic, lying fumes of their hell razed fairytale.

I shall let them linger in the cheerful woes of their mocking delusions.

I shall let them perish in their arrogant displacement of balanced thought.

I will leave them to their imminent demise upon the island of righteous self intent.

I shall despair not when the sky of truth comes crashing down on them, and they have no cloud for rescue.

I shall trouble myself no further with their elegant modeling of the libel they struck me with.

I shall tend to the well being of only a precious few.

All earthly hell be damned, for all earth shall be damned in hell.

There is one path to Heaven and I have taken it.

Do not confuse the roads leading to the pathway to Heaven, for the pathway to Heaven itself.

It is perhaps most un-angelic of me, but I am neither angel nor am I Savior.

I am done with them, I say. Finished. Let dust flecked feet upon well trodden cobblestones, be our witness henceforth.

Sincerely (if I may),

The Juvermeinx