The Spirit That Denies
(© Daniel Watts)
I am the spirit that denies
No flesh for you, none today
They stutter and shuffle
Grasping for a warm moment
In an eternity of cold days
The stalks part
As I pick my way to the door
Grass grown green and tall
With the full years maturity
The windows are all hollow
Holding only jagged pumpkin teeth shards
But this place is no longer grinning
The rusted knob turns easily enough
And I am inside
Once again at the beginning
I search for an end
And I end my search at home
But from across the darkened hall
Deep from shadow of the kitchen
A slight unperceivable exultation
Of unending death rattles
Slowly I enter, with sledge at ready
Stumbling through memories of Christmas dinners
Scrambled eggs
And late night coffee
As the dead man trips over our best china
The weight falls
Dropping the creature to the once checkered tile
Then once again splitting the skull
Spilling the source of its misbegotten existence at my feet
I am the spirit that denies
Once again alone
Each room I move though
Every memory trapped inside
Is folded, spindled, mutilated by the wicked blades of time
It's lightly raining on my bed
Through fire blackened holes
Feeding the small forest
Growing on the spring coils
I can see through the den
Out to the shed where my dad's tools lay
Alone, rusted red
The tractor and truck are burned out shells
Dead, dusty machina
Relics of the other life
I sigh as I slouch down in the rotten sofa
I am the spirit that denies
But I've allowed this one little slip
Realizing my mistake as the hands from behind my neck grip
And pull me towards
Some starving fools mouth
I came here to rest
Committing this new worlds only sin
I guess it's true what they say
“You can never go home again.”
- THE END - |
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