Necromancer
Beast of burden
I died, I died, I died, I died, and I died.
Together we sought the ether, you and I; motifs of misconstruction are our toils.
Disenthralled from delusions am I; bewitched by sentiments are you.
Need I become human to yield to such folly, I shall embrace my wraith lest my soul quiver.
I have no voice: you slit my throat.
I have no vision: you slashed my eyes.
I have no touch: you abscised my limbs.
Blind was I for your blindness and deaf for your deafness.
God’s consort were you: entrenched in delirium and heedless to my pleas of reconciliation.
My veins were your map of victimhood, and my heart, your confessional; yet I was the fatality in this cataclysm — nay, abomination — we christened love.
I bore witness to your plummet into the fathomless bowels of disillusionment.
Akin to my dismembered corpse are your otherworldly predilections; your reason is the mouthpiece for your nonage.
A beast of burden have I become, unbeknownst to me: my reality that none can gainsay.
I died. You killed me.
We killed us, and our laurels have withered.
An enchantress are you, a necromancer; may your mana never call to my spirit, for in my demise is your contentment — rife with fancy.
Caustically will I grin at your obtuseness. Gods, too, die; veins, too, dissever.
Thus, I say unto you: awaken from your reverie.
Look upon the rose and cypress and aster and iris; watch them solely as them.
You pitiful woman. I gave…
