Rapturous and overjoyed with the prospect of bridging innocence into essence. Preparations and organisations as the raw love and affection fill your aura. Guiltlessness chastity swells and animates inside the womb. A blank page ready to embark on life, never before experienced the sensations that should follow. The words don’t reach the blissful state of mind at first. Realising the reality of the dreadful situation collapsing into an abyss of hate. The once shinning beacon of life and innocence lost into inanimacy. Still birth is no option; stress and depression are ripping the edges of the soul. Crumbling like stale bread, horrid and sadistic thoughts begin to bloom like mould. The structure of everything positive begins to decompose like the departed carcass inside. Rid of the tiny dead beast that has caused such pain. The hatred begins to mingle with the guilt and the shame. The specialists give negative reactions towards the longing for detachment.  Bad they say, recovery is essential now, detachment is the later. As you arrive into the kitchen, the harsh taste of alcohol lingers in your worthless mouth. Neither God, nor the devil will grant forgiveness for what happened next. The half shattered bottle of poisonous alcohol embedded in the belly. The tiny lifeless carcass still not quite developed lay peacefully on the ground. Broken but departed the doctors were right.  Twisting the bloodied bottle to the jugular the eyes close. From love to death the pattern will follow.  The mercy of above is non-existent.

The heart stops. Life ceases.


By Joseph Burns