The Philosopher's Attic

This is the point of no return. The point of utter destruction.
This is the tearing of hearts, the breaking of pasts and the making of the future.
This is the turn of the wave of unrelenting pressure,
the hardest place you’ve ever visited,
the brightest star you’ve shot down to your own amusement,
the bloodiest dagger ever held,
the twisted heart and hardening carcass to throw out.

This is your ending and my beginning.
This is the cleansing fire of a thousand damnations,
and another hundred self-inflicted wounds of uncountable mysteries.

You, the fraud, the liar, the destroyer of worlds;
that egotistic excuse,
that twisted part of a lifetime,
that sorry solitude that made you,
that boneless cruelty you continued to spill into this world,
your terror, your tyranny…

Gone.

yseult Poetry