You have to keep
the child inside alive.
In a cage.
Locked up.
Feed it twice a week.
Enough to keep it alive
too weak to escape.
Make it your zombie.
You have to keep
the child inside alive.
Feed it sedatives.
Feed it poison.
Keep it inoculated.
Brainwashed.
It'll never leave you.
Bound in a small box.
Don't let it grow.
Keep it's bones broken and soft.
You have to steal its teeth.
All of em.
When it tries to bight off its tongue,
bleed out,
it will not die.
You have to keep
the child inside alive.
Don't let it leave.
Don't let it see you.
Don't let it see the man or the monster.
Don't scare it.
Keep it calm.
Don't let it see you.
Don't ever touch water to it.
Don't wash it. Ever.
You can't let it know it can be clean.
Teach it the truth-
That the sun is an angry god
who eats precious things like you.
Teach it the truth-
That the nest of insects inside of your brain can only be quieted to sleep by me.
Don't let it grow and touch itself.
It can't know the
functions of its form.
Wear your mask when you attack it.
The monster in its nightmare becomes something
you must mimic.
Then come in
clean-shaven
to save it.
Leave before it learns
what love is.
You must keep it estranged
because it is something
that you covet.
You must be the savior
of the child inside
and you must never let it die.
If you do,
what will become of you?

I don't want to write anymore
The need walked away
and left me with
a balance of zero
All the fire and searing pain
are now cold wet embers
in the morning dew
The lines of love
have turned yellow
in their newspaper ways
Cold dead headlines
that hold no importance
I will bury
the lifeless desire
in old notebooks
that will be shelved
and forgotten
When asked
if I once wrote poetry
I will scoff
and say ,"Who Me ?"
For there is no longer
a reason

I am the ******* son of Nero,
the sad product of licentiousness.
A fact about my life
that I should really mention less.

My mother was a famous Queen
or so it is that I am told.
Unable to acknowledge me,
to the slavers I was sold.

But pirates attacked our galley
a few miles out to sea.
Bold, daring, fearsome men,
their life appealed to me.

Plundering, fighting on a ship,
I loved the pirates life.
Until one day I floundered
and took me a beautiful wife.

She bore me two boys and a girl,
I gave them all my affection.
Mourning the loss of my childhood,
my severed parental connection.

The children grew and flew the nest,
so leaving just two alone.
Then the plague paid a visit,
my grief weighs heavy for my home.

So now I am just a humble poet,
Withdrawn and cold, but serene.
Throwing words at a paper audience,
waiting patient for the final scene.

Well, wait there a while longer,
this ******* is not quite done.
I am not so ready to die just now,
that epilogue is yet to come.

© Pagan Paul (19/04/17)